


Chained by Love and War

by MaeveOfKobol



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Battlestar Galactica - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fanart, Fate, There will always be angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveOfKobol/pseuds/MaeveOfKobol
Summary: “I’ll be a good husband to you,” he promised.“I don’t want to be your wife.”A medieval au where an arranged marriage brings Laura and Bill together. Meanwhile the Cylons threaten the borders of King Richard's Kingdom. Bill and Laura work for the good of their people while trying to navigate what they feel for each other.
Relationships: Richard Adar/Laura Roslin, William Adama/Laura Roslin
Comments: 129
Kudos: 128





	1. Untamed

“They say she’s quite untamable, milord.”

William Adama didn't react to his friend's words. Instead, he stood unmoving as if etched from stone, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, while said lady and her procession approached. They walked along the line of trees like an invading army. Shadows from the overhead leaves fell onto their party, but when they moved into sunlight its brightness became caught in their many glittering gems. At the center, and most radiant of all, Lady Laura walked, wearing a velvet gown trimmed in priceless cloth of gold and studded with sapphires. It shimmered so dark a shade of blue that it appeared black. It was a gown fit for a funeral.

As the distance closed, Bill judged her far more beautiful than he'd imagined and far more haughty. Well, if their match displeased her there was little to be done about it. Bill gripped the hilt of his sword as he waited for the woman who'd be his bride. Members of his household gathered under the raised tents bearing his coat of arms. He waited in the blazing sun where his simple leather jacket felt stifling. He blamed the jacket and not the anticipation for the heat racing along his skin.

"You're in trouble," Saul said, the amusement clear in his voice. Bill allowed his Marshal and best friend to speak his mind. The man had proven his absolute loyalty and devotion a hundred times over, and so Bill tolerated Saul's more insolent words, drunken behavior, and downright rude manners. While Saul seemed unimpressed, the other members of Adama's household stared at the spectacle headed toward their master. Judging by the excited murmurs, they were delighted by the elegant woman who'd be joining them. Delighted and intimidated; she was well attended and heavily guarded as befitted someone close to the throne.

"She'll be no problem," Bill said in a low tone to his friend.

"Sure." He heard Saul choke back condescending laughter.

They'd fought in many battles side by side against a ruthless enemy, and both of them became heroes of the Cylon war. That war was now long over, but it had earned Bill Adama renown as a valiant and expert commander, and he was given the title Commander of the Northern Army. Battle-hardened, Bill knew, despite whatever Saul thought, that he could handle this wife the king thought fit to give him. Besides, his bride brought with her great wealth and her lingering influence, and for a man whose castle guarded the mountain pass the Cylons would use to attack and whose lands would fall first; Bill Adama couldn't pass up what he'd gain from the mismatched marriage.

But he had no want of a wife.

"I've handled worse," Bill added. Saul kept his mouth shut and didn't mention Carolanne. Bill had been so smitten that she still haunted his thoughts years later. Even now, her harsh words of criticism echoed in his mind, and her betrayal remained a scar on his heart.

Bill refused to open his heart to another woman, but he would do his duty as a husband and lord.

When the lady stopped in front of him, she swept a graceful curtsey and came up with her head held high and a defiant tilt to her chin. Looking him up and down, she appeared unimpressed with her husband-to-be. As if her standards embroidered in gold and her liveried retainers weren't enough, the murmuring lords and ladies caught her silent disapproving message. Bill could have huffed at how predictable it all played out. The whole damn kingdom knew that his soon-to-be-wife was entering into a union far beneath the station to which she'd been born, and Bill knew he possessed neither the looks nor charms to make up for it.

He gazed at the woman he'd marry in a fortnight; she combined a fighting spirit with grace and dignity; he suspected she would make his life hell. He wondered how much fuss she'd cause if she strangled him with one of her billowing standards, because despite the polite smile she painted on her face, he knew she'd like nothing better. He watched her challenge him with defiant green eyes

She was magnificent.

Her rich auburn hair was swept back from her face and held with pins of perfect pearl. Her skin was soft and pale, but Bill noticed a dusting of freckles and thought her all the more beautiful. The bodice of her dress was finely embroidered and highlighted the curve of her waist and pushed her breasts up to display them tantalizingly. The glittering gems at her throat and fingers announced to the world that she was the daughter of the old royal house.

That was the problem.

She'd become a thorn in King Richard's side. She was the beloved daughter of the late Edward, Duke of Roslin whose two older brothers had sat on Caprica's throne. Because Richard won a battle against her much disliked uncle, the crown passed over Laura and went to the victor. Darling of the court and sole heir of the once great Roslin line, Laura became a political problem who needed to be dealt with by either imprisonment, execution, or marriage.

Richard delayed in handling the lady, and rumors whispered that he intended to marry her himself when his sick wife died. If those same rumors could be believed, the king also hadn't waited to have Laura in his bed. If Bill listened to the more licentious murmurings around court, Laura had participated in the king's advances eagerly. In the end, despite King Richard's hopes, for years his queen continued to live, and Laura conceived no child. Although Laura remained content to be unmarried with her vast lands, riches, and army, Richard decided to marry her off before she rose as a threat or as a rallying point for the mounting discontented factions in his kingdom. No longer a virgin and unable to bear a child, her reputation was stained, and her value tarnished; facts that worked in the king's favor when deliberating a match for her.

Adama was no fool. He knew very well that King Richard wanted the rival to his throne married off to someone considered an insignificant member of the aristocracy. Irritated at the implication, Bill realized that he was meant to shroud Lady Laura in the minor Adama name and keep her safely away from Richard's crown. To the public, the match was the king's way of rewarding his commander for Bill's long service and his latest exploits. However, in private the two men disliked each other too much for Richard to ever want to truly reward Bill, so giving him a stubborn, defiant, and problematic wife who couldn't conceive was more punishment than reward. Maybe if Bill's recent raids across the Cylon's border had successfully found reason to provoke a war that would have brought glory to King Richard then Bill wouldn't be looking into a smiling face with green eyes that blazed with fury.

Bill stepped forward and noticed how she curbed her instinct to flinch away from him. Interesting. He bowed slightly in greeting.

"Milady, welcome," he greeted her simply after the page's ostentatious and formal introductions were spoken.

"I'm honored," she said coldly.

Hushed conversation filled the space around them as people watched their interaction. Bill disliked the scrutiny. Unsure of what to say, more used to war, archery, and falconry than socializing, he studied his breathtaking intended.

"Do I please you?" she asked in her haughty tone. Gods, her insolence would be the death of her, Bill thought. The rumors that spoke of her pride and stubbornness were clearly true.

"Well enough." Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward ostensibly to kiss her cheek. Instead, he whispered into her ear, "Whatever you may think of me, I'm fully aware that I'm your only refuge. I stand between you and a monastery or the block. For your own good, I suggest you start acting like a happy bride. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." He fell back a little from the whip of her tongue. Maybe she was untamable, Lady Laura certainly lacked any of the traditional respect and deference shown toward a man to be her husband.

"I'm to escort you to the joust."

"And like a good soldier you always do as you're told?" She asked without so much as blinking. They regarded each other unwavering and unmoving, eyes locked in a silent battle. Already, he wanted to break her iron armor and see her submit. Her father and her uncles may have allowed her to run free like a wild mare, but he needed her to acknowledge that she wasn't the master here. He would not be undermined. Never again. He needed to ensure the continued safety of his people, and, hopefully, the life of his soon to be wife.

"Yes, I do. As will you."

He expected her to be indignant at his words. So, when she laughed, it brought his blood to a boil.

"I heard you're one of those people. A staunch traditionalist who expects everyone to obey your every order."

"I can't allow anyone to undermine my command," he said. He grabbed her hand and tucked it into his arm, his grip so tight that he felt the fine bones of her white hand. They walked side by side as he escorted her to the planned festivities.

"So this is how it's going to be?" she asked, and he heard condemnation in her voice as her composure cracked if only a little.

He could smell the trace of rosewater in her hair and felt the warmth of her hand in the crook of his elbow. He had to force himself not to stare at her as he noted the ivory curve of her neck and her face with its slight lines. Both of them were older. If they made it to their wedding night, he'd have to take care when she was under him in bed so that he didn't harm her. He refused to hurt her even if a part of him already screamed out in desire to claim every fiery inch of her.

"I'll be a good husband to you," he promised.

"I don't want to be your wife."

He decided he'd make her beg for him on their wedding night. "But you will be. We're stuck with each other. Now, if you behave," he noted the way her body tensed as she strode beside him, and he knew she'd never agree to be a traditional Caprican wife, "and refrain from murdering me in my sleep, I'll keep you safe," Bill offered. He felt Laura falter for a fraction of a moment as he promised no small feat. Her proximity to the throne, her lineage, her wealth; it all made her a valuable target. She looked at him with curious eyes.

"You promise?" she asked. "Even if I refuse to be a quiet, obedient wife."

Zeus damn the woman - she was going to turn his life upside down when all he wanted was a calm, simple life where he was respected by the men and women under his command and on his lands. But the flash of true vulnerability he caught in her eyes, even as she maintained her dignified poise, sparked an unexpected protectiveness and surge of desire. Oh Lords spare him.

"I promise."


	2. A Joust and a King

The whole of Caprica’s nobility turned out for the tourney, committed to enjoying their share of the celebrations preceding the infamous wedding. It promised to be quite a merry spectacle for everyone. At least, everyone-except for the two getting married who appeared unaffected.

Bill hated such ostentatious events. Knowing his duty, Lord Adama led Lady Laura Roslin to the second-best seats in the royal box. Of course, he’d seen her there before, close to the king, sitting dignified like the indomitable woman her lineage expected her to be. Next to them, in the highest and most comfortable seats, would be King Richard and his wife.

Hundreds of townsfolk stomped and cheered in the wooden stands surrounding the jousting arena. Bill noticed that many of them called out and waved to the woman beside him, openly supporting the last Roslin alive. Laura smiled and waved back. The King may have wanted her brought low by a modest marriage, but Laura held her head high and refused to be humbled.

She was Icarus flying close to the sun. The Roslins’ golden rule and its time of beauty, grace, and peace had ended. Although some whispered of the former court, most deemed it a time best left forgotten, or else a jealous king’s irritation might be kindled. Adar ruled now, and he suffered few reminders of other times. To that end, the eye-catching remnant of the old dynasty would be swept away and married off to a gruff soldier. Richard and his councilors intended the match to demean Laura, and they hoped that the shine a rumored affair hadn’t touched would be dulled. They’d see her turned into a soldier’s demure wife.Bill decided whoever concocted this plan was a moron. The Lady Laura remained unbent, and Bill had no desire to break her on behalf of any scared king.

In his younger days, Bill had wanted to care for a wife and bring them some happiness. After one failed marriage, it seemed too indulgent to hope that willful, rich Lady Laura might even one day appreciate what Bill had to offer. He had only modest lands, a modest name, and a difficult personality to give.

He suddenly felt old and battle weary as he wondered how his life had gone so terribly wrong. His bride already had his blood boiling. Every time their eyes met, she seemed to challenge him. He suspected the truth of Saul’s words-Laura Roslin was untamable. If the king didn’t find her so dangerous and if his first marriage hadn’t gone so wrong, Bill wouldn’t mind. He’d have gladly enjoyed looking into Laura’s fierce eyes as he coaxed her body into writhing under him; after all, a modest name and modest lands coupled with a scarred face and many long wartime campaigns had turned him into a talented lover. He did enjoy the thought of a woman in his bed again.

Bill pushed those thoughts to the side where they would wait until Laura was his wife as the king commanded. Unlike the idiotic king, Bill simply realized a marriage couldn’t erase Laura’s fire or her lingering claim to the throne. Whatever the king hoped for, Bill felt honor-bound to protect the woman to be his wife despite his initial assessment of how irritable and haughty she seemed. So when she asked him a thoughtful question, it threw him off guard.

“Do you enjoy tournaments, commander?”

“They’re quite a spectacle,” Bill said, and managed to keep the grimace off his face. He imagined Saul snickering at him. _Of course it’s a damn spectacle_. She turned and raised an imperious eyebrow at him with a bemused expression, and he felt a stab of irritation.

“Spectacles help people forget their worries.”

“You have a lot of worries to forget.”

Laura narrowed her eyes, unused to such blunt talk. She tilted her head to the side. “I hear you do as well.”

It was amazing how tense their attempt at conversation turned. He frowned, wondering just how much information she’d gathered on him. Did she know about his previous, battlefield like marriage? Had she already judged him for his rumored many faults?

When he didn’t reply, Laura turned and waved to the people. She smiled, presenting a warm counterpoint to the cold facade she maintained with him. By his side, she kept her flawless poise. She didn’t notice her commander’s eyes watching her, trying to determine if her interest in the people was genuine or pandering. Sitting down in their seats, they continued to exchange only short words. It was hard to be conversational or eloquent when Laura was trying not to envision a marriage that caged and clipped her wings, and Bill was trying not to picture another turbulent marriage.

Meanwhile, the people of Caprica scrutinized the decorated war veteran. They’d heard stories of William Adama as the renowned Commander and hero who kept them safe from the Cylons. Known in stories, Bill wasn’t a recognized sight, having rarely journeyed to the capital and never having attained such a prominent position by the king. People looked at Bill and whispered, but he remained stern and composed. He prized self-control; he who could master himself knew true power. He knew they gossiped at his scarred cheeks, tanned skin, and lack of finery. He brushed it off, knowing that the people of Galactica Castle and those under his command couldn’t care less about such trifles.

Taking a deep breath, he made another attempt at conversation. With a little effort, he hoped they’d at least avoid spitting daggers at each other while married. It would be a step up from his last cobra of a bride.

“When tournaments aren’t distracting you, what do you enjoy?” he asked. Laura’s head shot around to look at him, and Bill watched the wheels in her mind turn as she pondered her response. He got the feeling she was judging him, testing him. Had life at court made her too cautious even with simple questions?

“Learning. I have a weakness for books.”

“Really?” Interesting. “What kind?”

“All kinds. My father was always bringing books home. Ballads. Poetry. Philosophy. Epics. He loved sharing knowledge, and I adored him, so I loved learning.”

“I heard your father was quite a scholar,” Bill said, and a brief, genuine smile danced in her eyes. Suddenly she was talking openly.

“He was. While my uncles were surrounded by ambassadors and councilmen, my father walked in the gardens and argued with professors and inventors.”

“And you were trailing behind them, weren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Sounds like it was a happy time,” Bill said, but he realized it was the wrong thing to say when the light vanished in Laura’s eyes. Her days surrounded by family at their happy, open court were over. It bordered on treason to wish for those days back because of how close it came to wishing the current king gone.

“The gods have seen fit to continuously bless the kingdom,” Laura said diplomatically with a forced smile, too well trained to say one word of regret for her fallen house. High-born ladies didn’t share their grief. No, they looked dignified and content beside their betrothed. Bill hated the pretending, but his sympathy stirred for Laura. Although he couldn’t be certain he was doing the right thing, he covered her hand with his own and held on. He felt the tension in her hand where she gripped the handle of her seat but allowed the touch. She closed her eyes and let out a breath.

Before they could talk more, courtiers approached in order to exchange pleasantries with Lady Laura. To the flatterers and petitioners, she seemed impassive yet flirtatious all at once. She radiated authority but delicately balanced listening and not promising anything. A commander needed a true understanding of the situation he found himself in, so Bill observed her. There was an artfulness to her mannerisms. She presented herself as kindhearted and too naive for anyone to concern themselves over, but whenever someone spoke, Laura listened and hoarded their secrets. Very interesting. Bill found himself thinking of what it would be like to wake up beside such a woman and have her face be the last thing he saw before sleep for the rest of his life. Then Bill noticed the jealousy in the eyes of the noblemen and wondered if he’d be watching his back for a knife for the rest of his life. _What had he done to deserve this?_

After seeing her in action for just a few moments, Bill understood why the king might want her dead, away from court, or in his bed.

Fanfare sounded and Bill tensed at the amount of pomp and circumstance the king required for his arrival-it was nothing short of ridiculous. The clapping started when the first person caught sight of the king, and it continued as he strode into the king’s box with no queen trailing in with him. The court bowed at his arrival as protocol demanded. Bill disliked the king, but he bowed as well.

The people rose and looked to Richard who smiled openly as he played his role. Magnificently attired, dressed in a purple velvet doublet adorned with heavy embroidery under a chain of gold and emeralds, no one doubted Richard was the king. Even those who whispered the word ‘usurper’ marveled at the grandiose display designed to overwhelm. Bill knew that wary kings needed to use such theatrics to assert their power but found the display an unconvincing attempt to cover his self-consciousness.

Richard addressed the crowd as eloquent as a poet. Waves of charm and charisma flowed off the king as he tried to ensure he, as the conquering king, remained loved by the conquered. After commanding the joust to begin, the king took his seat and turned. Bill’s insides clenched as Richard’s eyes fixed on Laura as if she were a jewel he needed to possess.

Bill felt his irritation burn hot when Laura easily smiled back. He’d hoped the rumors of the two of them weren’t true, but his battlefield-honed instinct told him otherwise. The image of undeserving Richard pawing at Laura made him feel sick. The idea of Laura indulging Richard made him enraged. Although forced to take another wife, he’d have preferred experiencing what it was like to have a faithful bride. He never again wanted to smell another man on his wife.

“Your grace,” Laura greeted.

“Welcome back to court, my lady,” Richard said formally, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. As the court sat down and the joust began, Richard leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to Laura. The two talked back and forth while the knights broke lances against each other.

Bill’s mood grew dark. His and Laura’s brief lighthearted exchange from earlier seemed inconsequential when he listened as Laura matched the king word for word, their banter full of teeth and cheek. Bill watched his gorgeous, sharp-witted wife-to-be laughing and talking to someone undeserving even if said man wore a crown. Bill hated that she seemed so out of his reach even though when they exchanged vows by the law of the land, she’d be his. Unbidden, an intense possessiveness ignited in him, and her ivory skin practically called him to nibble and kiss it until his mark stood out as a reminder of whose bed she’d be sharing forever. Bill mentally shook himself and reigned in his desires before the controlling side of his personality got the better of him. Whatever his urges, he’d behave honorably. He believed trust to be a vital part of any partnership, far more than any sentiment like love or desire. Nevertheless, watching Laura filled Bill with something deep and dark that both frightened and thrilled him.

“The preparations for your wedding are well underway and now you’ve met Commander Adama. So tell me, my lady, how do you find your betrothed?” Richard asked, loud enough for Bill to hear so that his attention became riveted to the conversation.

Laura turned to Bill. The reluctant couple looked at each other, sizing the other up with the chivalrous competition as their background. The ugly truth lingered in the air; neither of them wanted to marry and they didn’t seem to like each other much.

“He promises to be a good husband, and I’ve heard he’s a man of his word. That makes me happy.”

Bill’s heart thundered in his chest, surprised at her response. His eyes held hers, serious and searching. Something between them clicked for the briefest moment, drawing them together like a pair of magnets.

“I’m glad, Laura. I know you didn’t want to marry,” Richard’s words broke the brief spell. At Laura’s response, Bill didn’t miss how Richard stared at Laura with an unsettling combination of lust, regret, and rage. He wanted her, that much Bill could tell. Further, Richard clearly disliked Laura showing any trace of favor to someone else. 

“I did say that,” Laura admitted, undercurrents of resentment burning beneath her words. “But we can’t always have what we want.”

Richard frowned before turning back to the joust.

…

“I trust you’ve been well while away,” Richard said, when his attention blew Laura’s direction once more.

"I find that the country suits me," said Laura. In fact, she wanted to be back at her country manors now, safely tucked away out of Richard’s mind and sight. Many might call her life boring, but it was hers. It had been hers alone.

Now she was expected to marry, but she held her head high and endured the festivities. Armor glinted in the sun, great gilded pieces meant for both beauty and protection. In between jousts, squires belted out poetry to the crowds. The billowing flags, the glamourous knights, and jeweled nobles form a court of wealth and power. If seeing is believing, Richard intended the people to witness the grandeur he commanded.

Laura allowed very few of her knights to joust and in so doing maintained a discrete participation. She’d rather keep her head than flaunt her own lingering power. Therefore it became Richard’s knights who were hailed the most stylish and their squires the most eloquent. The court went mad when Richard’s champion, Sir Nagala, rode out. Laura clapped along with the people but took the chance to surreptitiously glance at Commander Adama. Laura was unsurprised to find he didn’t seem to think much of Nagala. So far, his calculating gaze judged each competitor for skill rather than appearance, and he’d correctly guessed the outcome of every match.

Laura decided that if she had to marry, an intelligent soldier could make an unconventional but good match. Used to attention from tall, slender men who believed themselves to be Adonis reborn, the Commander stood out as stocky, craggy-faced and barely taller than her. Dark and bulky, but muscled and solid, Laura found herself wanting to run her hands through the thick hair on his head and feel along his arms. Admittedly more roughhewn than most courtiers, Laura found herself intrigued and pulled in by him one moment, only to be stunned by his obstinacy and underlying authoritarianism a second later. _He’d better not believe I’ll behave like one of his soldiers after we marry._

On the field, Nagala sat on his horse with infinite grace while his squire recited a poem he’d composed for the occasion. Of course, it glorified chivalry and valiant deeds. The romantically stylized words portrayed the story of Perseus rescuing Andromeda from the sea monster, and neither Richard nor Nagala were circumspect in their pointed look between the king, the commander, and herself. Laura realized it was treason, but she desired nothing more than to strangle both knight and king for the insinuations. The commander was infuriating but no monster and she was no gods-forsaken maiden in need of rescuing.

She already noted the displeased glances from Adama as Richard monopolized her time with his meaningless chatter. Didn’t Adama know how kings needed pandering to remain placated? Didn’t he realize the danger in denying the king what he wanted, or how illegal and treasonous it was to raise a hand to shove a monarch's licentious attention away. She endured and when possible did good where she could.

The squire finished, and Nagala urged his horse forward to stand in front of her. Laura suppressed her groan.

“May I have your favor, my Lady?” _Ha._ Laura refused to give her token to anyone who implied her intended was like a sea monster or, even more ridiculous, likened Richard to Perseus. She suspected there would be many fights between her and Adama in private, but honor demanded they be a unified front in public. Besides, the Roslins wouldn't have approved of her disgracing any man in public who’d done nothing wrong.

“You are already the king’s champion, and I planned on only giving out one favor today. You must allow other knights to shine.”

“And so, the fairest lady in the kingdom both denies me her favor and is to be married. My dreams shatter. How shall I bear my unhappiness?” The ladies of the court loved the chivalrous words. They sighed and swooned, but Laura sat stone faced as she tried not to gag.

“There are other fine ladies who I’m sure would be willing,” Laura said, forcing her voice to sound light and teasing.

“Of course, my lady.” Nagala turned his horse and galloped across the tiltyard into place. Admittedly, he was an outstanding showcase from Richard’s knights, looking immense and handsome atop his horse. Tall and broad shouldered with chiseled features and an easy smile, many women sighed as he passed.

After Nagala’s display, Laura inclined her head toward Adama.

“Do you think we can hope his opponent will beat him?” Used to soothing ruffled feathers, she hoped letting her soldier talk about the fighting would make him happy. She already knew him to be too smart not to catch the subtle barb. Laura squinted against the high noon sun to see his opponent and watched a smaller, unknown knight mount a pretty grey mare. The mystery knight took the opposite end of the field and faced off against the king’s champion. “It doesn’t look like a fair match.”

“Looks don’t matter when winning a fight. Talent does,” Bill growled. He nodded toward the smaller knight. He felt excited to see this match. He smiled and briefly forgot he was talking to a high-born lady and not Saul with whom he’d normally attended tournaments as he spoke, “Nagala’s gonna get his ass knocked out of his saddle on the first round.”

Laura’s snort took them both by surprise. Bill’s mood threatened to darken again, thinking her to be laughing at him.

“Pardon my langua-”

“-Oh please. I’d prefer your honesty over the court’s poisoned honey,” Laura teased, unconsciously glancing at the king beside her.

Bill’s face softened when he realized she was simply amused at the thought of Nagala’s fall. A giggle escaped her throat and Bill found himself smiling again but now at the pleasant sound and the way it brightened Laura’s face. There was something about the way her long fingers pressed to her lips to stifle the sound, the mirth dancing in her eyes, the way the light streaked across her face and glinted off the red in her hair…

The blaring horns cut through the moment. The commotion of the crowd once again ignited, and the deafening revelry prevented Laura and Bill from exchanging any further words. Bill forced his eyes back to the match and away from red hair and pink lips.

The knights held up their lances. Despite the size and weight, the smaller knight steadied it easily with one hand. The horns blared once more, bidding the knights to go. Grabbing hold of their reins, both charged down the field. As Bill predicted, the younger knight, careful with the lance’s aim, knocked sir Nagala clean off his horse. He fell to the dirt in clatter of armor.

After a stunned moment, the crowd clapped. They’d come for a spectacle after all. Impressed, Richard stood and bid the knight to come forward, take off their helm, and tell the court their name. The court gasped when the knight yanked off their helmet and a young woman with blond hair and laughing eyes was revealed.

“My name is Kara Thrace, your grace!”

“Well fought,” Richard managed.

“Thank you, your grace,” she said, with the sauciest grin Laura had ever witnessed on a knight’s face. Laura desperately held back her giggles as Richard fumbled for what to say. He needn’t have bothered. Kara knew what she wanted. “May I finish the tournament?” the woman asked, smug laughter barely suppressed in her tone. The king waved her away, but before she left Kara urged her horse to step in front of Laura.

"Might I have your favor, my lady?" she asked. Kara’s defiant eyes didn’t move from Laura even though the court buzzed with shock and possibly horror. Laura grinned.

Feeling generous, Laura allowed the Commander an opinion by asking if he minded. Unexpectedly, he grinned and chuckled. He nodded for her to proceed. Laura rose and stepped to the railing where Kara carefully held her lance still as a red ribbon was pulled from Laura’s wrist and tied it to the lance. The court buzzed with disbelief at Laura’s graceful acceptance of the knight’s request.

“Athena watch over you,” Laura said. Kara laughed and bowed her head before trotting off to the starting place where a few other knights watched her warily. Laura giggled again, leaning over to Bill. “I like her.”

“I’m glad,” Bill said. _By Zeus she has me feeling a hundred different emotions in just a minute_ , Bill thought as he basked in Laura’s praise for the knight. “She’s my ward. I trained her myself for years. She wanted to learn to fight the moment she was strong enough to hold a sword.”

His words painted a pretty picture for a woman whose greatest dream was a happy family. Her praise toward the unconventional Sir Kara painted a pretty picture for a man who wanted acceptance.

Then King Richard demanded Laura’s attentions again and the picture shattered. Bill didn’t want to eavesdrop, but Richard seemed to want him to hear.

“Remember Laura, there is a way out of the marriage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Like I said, I’m having fun with this a/u. No beta. No outline. There will be romance, drama, angst, and fluff. It’s the a/u that no one really asked, but some of us will strangely enjoy. I hope. Review if you enjoy?


	3. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated MA for smut.

The music swirled around the court, tantalizing the feasting nobles. The melodies came to nuzzle at Laura’s ear where they urged her to forget her troubles and let herself be swept away in sound. As the hours passed, the hall descended into a haze of melody and wine. From the corner of the richly decorated hall, minstrels played on polished wooden instruments inlaid with mother of pearl flourishes. One man on a fiddle played a melancholy tune that seemed like the silvery wisps of a dream that was slowly forgotten upon waking. Around the fiddle, the other instruments rose in fevered excitement until it seemed a joyous piece to which the court leapt and spun. Yet under it, the fiddler’s tune remained the sad counterpoint. Above the dancing court, King Richard sat on his throne and enjoyed the heady revelry.

The minstrels enjoyed generous patronage from Lady Laura herself; the gesture reminded the lady of two departed sisters and the times they’d enjoyed dancing together. They played Laura’s favorite pieces, many composed during her family’s time on the throne, and the people recognized the music like something from a fairy-tale time. Although the minstrels panted and sweated, the group struck up new tunes with little rest. The next one was slow and stately to tease and toy with a court that indulged in too much sweetwine.

Handsome men approached Lady Laura and urged her to honor them with a dance. These men carried noble names and easy smiles while their gemstone embroidered doublets caught the light. Enduring how they flattered her, Laura accepted these offers. Always careful, always wary, she played the part of contented lady while trying to keep out of Richard’s line of sight. Following the steps of the music, she talked with her partners quietly and learned many a court secret. Her purple skirts swished about her body while the amethysts at her neck sparkled in the great hall’s firelight.  
Laura pretended to enjoy every moment.

Laura knew to seize opportunities as they arose. She did once enjoy dancing but now her partners were tiresome. Richard ruled a court of hidden agendas and backstabbing friends, and Laura remained a powerful piece on the chessboard. She stepped carefully. Laura danced with the ease and grace of a woman born to royalty and raised at a merry court. Her fine dress flowed around her like a purple river of silk as she moved with an effortless elegance. Appearing swept away in the music, no one realized how sharp her mind stayed.

Every time she let her head fall back, arched in ecstasy to the music, she actually observed the court with the attentiveness of a trained bloodhound. Lady Sharon Agathon, the marquess of Athens, conversed in a dark corner with a sir Aaron Doyle; Lord Wallace Grey traced the outline of a woman’s neck that didn’t belong to Lady Grey; the King’s personal physician, Gaius Baltar, passed a covert letter to a woman in scarlet. She noticed it all. She observed the details, the agendas. Most people were not even half so circumspect as they liked to believe.

Around the dancers, music rippled across the old, grey stone walls and across the tapestries embroidered by the royal men and women of days long past. Using shimmering silk thread, they’d depicted their country's greatest battles. Her father himself added the gold stitching to the nearby scene depicting the Battle of Talon Plain; a fight in which her husband-to-be earned renown as a skilled combatant.

Although she hoped to disappear in on the dance floor with its rainbow of swooshing skirts, a hundred eyes watched every move Laura took. She ignored Richard, hoping he’d move on to easier targets, and then became aware of one man’s gaze. Unlike the others, Laura imagined she could feel this man looking at her, sending a tingling sensation up her spine. Every time she glanced over, the commander still watched her without expression and his eyes followed her movements. When their eyes caught the other, he may as well have been the only man in the room. Laura certainly didn’t notice the king who stared in obvious longing.

They’d argued after the joust. They’d argued the day after the joust. They’d argued for a week solid now, locked in a power struggle. Their conversations never started in anger, and she actually found him well-spoken and intelligent, but they inevitably stumbled upon topics where their opinions clashed. At those times, they hurled words like weapons at the other, mostly over politics of the realm, military policies, and how they’d combine their houses. In general, Laura found him stubborn and proud. Honed by his time in the military, Adama was used to dominating with orders and structure. Now he’d come face to face with someone who refused to bow to his will; she’d warned him.

And yet, just last night they’d sat in front of the fire in her sitting room with spiced ale and both seemed to enjoy the other’s company. Although they exchanged only a few words, the silence had rested lightly around them without pressing them to speak. It was comfortable, maybe even enjoyable. Battle wearied souls needed respite. She wondered what kind of man he might be under the gruff, insufferable exterior. He skipped flattery and double-talk, preferring to speak with her honestly and he seemed a man of honor, but Laura learned long ago that it was not wise to put her trust or faith in anyone. She tried to snuff out the longing in her soul that called out for companionship.

Standing off to the side in the great hall, the Commander looked strong and commanding. Dressed in a black velvet doublet with simple embroidered lines that defined his broad chest and enhanced his olive-toned skin, he appeared darkly handsome. Although a soldier among the dazzling nobles, he radiated power and undeniably rugged male appeal. His intense blue eyes threatened to distract her with their single-minded focus. When the dance ended, Laura didn’t even notice her partner’s words. She found herself walking towards Adama who remained expressionless although his eyes sparkled as if amused. One of her ladies, a sweet girl named Dualla, approached with engraved silver cups.

“Would you care for some sweetwine, Commander?” Laura asked. The sugary drink was sweeter than she usually liked, but it made the evening pass easier.

“Thank you,” he said politely. Accepting their drinks, Laura thanked her lady and nodded for her to go.

“To a long union,” she toasted, and wondered why she’d left the word ‘happy’ out. Adama chose not to comment but lifted his cup. Laura took a long sip, hoping to calm her sudden titillating nerves. The blackberry-scented wine surged across her tongue sweet and fruity; she closed her eyes, sighing in pleasure and thought she heard Adama hum in approval. Aware of her husband-to-be’s powerful presence, she tried to think of what they could talk about that wouldn't erupt in a fight while in the great hall. Not that she backed down from the challenge of a verbal sparring match, but she preferred to keep them suitably private. He beat her to it.

“When I sit by your fire again, I should bring some Tauron plum brandy or Aerilon firewine. I think you’d enjoy the strong drink.” Laura raised an eyebrow, trying to judge his question. Did he expect her to disparage drinks from poorer countries? Was he provoking a comment on his own well-known Tauron heritage? Too used to court, she expected manipulation everywhere. Instead, he seemed sincere in the idea, as if he thought she’d genuinely enjoy it. Maybe he meant a strong drink for a strong woman, and Laura decided to smile. She rather enjoyed the idea of sharing a strong drink with this man.

“I’d like that. I take it you enjoy strong drinks?”

“No, my lady. I’ve got a sweet tooth, so I prefer the sweetwine,” he said, raising the cup in his hand. It seemed so contrary to what she expected that Laura couldn’t help how her eyes widened in surprise or how she giggled in amusement. She looked Adama over and found a man who seemed to know who he was and what he wanted, a powerful combination worth almost more than the finest titles and richest lands. 

“You surprise me.”

“As have you,” Adama said. She cocked her head to the side and Adama nodded to the court. “So, what did you notice on the dance floor?” he asked, giving her a knowing look. Laura froze. He’d noticed the observations she’d made while pretending to enjoy nothing but the dancing.

“Nothing worth mentioning.” She didn’t deny her activities, even though it was dangerous for her to appear too interested in the goings on at court. The king could never be given a reason to suspect she planned or plotted anything. She refused to give up the freedom that came from being thought loyal and unthreatening. Bill studied her.

“I’m sure we saw similar things. I also noticed the nobles dancing with you, many of whom make much more sense in a match than me. I know I’m a rather interesting choice.” He didn’t need to finish the statement for Laura to understand what he was asking. Why him?

“The devil you know,” Laura answered. Adama tilted his head. “You’re an honorable man. Most of the people here, if allowed to marry me, would use my lineage as a claim to the throne.” Laura pointed out some of the men in the room who’d asked for her hand already, and explained the potential wealth, land, and private soldiers they’d command between them. Then there was the rival king, Thomas Zarek, who’d sent offers. When Richard rejected those offers, he’d sent a private letter offering to spirit Laura away. The king intercepted the letter, not that Laura would have accepted, and knew he’d reason to fear. So Richard dealt with her by finding her an unthreatening match. Adama only commanded the king’s army, not his own, and had a small castle in the north. “You won’t use me as a pawn, and once married that ends anyone else’s ambitions that involve me.”

“Do you resent having to marrying me?”

“I resent marrying,” she said and took a deep breath and another fortifying drink of wine. She noticed the sad shadow in Adama’s eye for a split second and afforded them one moment of honesty. “I don’t resent you though.”

Bill nodded, understanding her answer. “Politics. As exciting as war and definitely as dangerous.”

“Though in war, you only get killed once. Among these people, it can happen over and over.”

“You’re still standing.” She felt strong when he said that. As the tide of war and rebellion came and went, she remained. So did he.

“So are you.”

“And I can dance too.”

He smiled, a real smile that brightened his whole face, and extended a hand to her. She laughed before even realizing it and placed her hand in his, noticing the fire that seemed to spread from his fingers into hers. She liked the idea of them being two survivors sharing a dance. She liked that he seemed to respect her strength. He led her to the center of the floor and the music began. 

Laura expected something light and easy, but the notes that moved around them turned dark and smooth; her minstrels had started up an agalliao, a passionate dance that began with Adama stalking a measured circle around her. She tried to even out her breathing as she felt his gaze on her, but her senses were already focused entirely on his nearness. When he stopped in front of her, she dipped in a curtsey and realized she was starting what would be the most memorable dance of her life.

When she rose, he slid his palm against her waist, and she felt how his fingers splayed against her dress to hold her firm and steady but without being restricting. A blushed bloomed over her cheeks as they began to move together. The dance was fast, almost fevered, with a hop or a skip every few steps. They whirled around the room, perfectly in sync with each other. Pressed together on the dance floor, everything else faded away. She felt the ripple of muscle under her palms where she held his arm. Fire licked along her skin. By her will or not, her body responded to him even if her mind remained guarded. She couldn't deny something compelling about this man.

After lifting her for a large jump as the music reached its climax, he eased her down and when she landed, they faced each other again. There was no mistaking the heated look in their eyes. She wanted to blame the wine for the flush in her cheeks and the energy spreading through her body but even her sane mind admitted that wasn’t the case. She pulled her wits about her, knowing the king and his court observed every move she made.

The musicians ended with a flourish, and the couple stared at one another. Laura felt rosy, damp, and breathless. Trapped by his eyes, her pulse fluttered like something scared and caged. I have to get control of this, she realized.

Dropping into a curtsy, she said something about being tired, and practically ran from the room.  
…

Laura raced to her rooms, desperate to regain her balance. Marching through her rooms until she was alone in her bedroom, she braced herself against a bedpost and breathed. Her breaths came in heaves and pants as she wondered what came over her. Resting her head against the cool wood, she let her thoughts tumble around like a whirlwind.

Sometime later, her maid Elosha entered the room and gave Laura a disapproving look, having heard how Laura left the great hall. Without issuing a single word, she gestured for Laura to sit and then began unwinding the styled red hair. Pulling priceless pearl pins out of Laura’s thick hair, Elosha laid them on the table while studying Laura in the silver looking glass.

“Sooner or later,” Elosha said gently, “you’re going to have to face the fact that you can’t get through life alone.”

Laura pursed her lips and shook her head, letting the curls tumble down her back. The battle of silences continued as Elosha helped unlace the long silk dress and then the corset, a lengthy process of shedding layers of formal court ware. Laura remained silent through it all. She’d been left alone when her family died. She was safer relying on herself. She needed no one.

“No one gets through entirely on their own. No one.”

Elosha gave her a fresh nightgown to wear to bed, thin and translucent with delicate white embroidery on the edges. Laura moved over to the small altar in her chamber, kneeling for her evening prayer to the Goddess Athena, the virgin goddess of wisdom. Lighting a stick of sandalwood incense, the smoke curled around Laura while Elosha gathered up the pins and gown. Stopping at the door, Elosha turned to say one last thing to her stubborn charge.

“No wonder you pray to Athena; you’re strong and independent and self-reliant. Your commander knows that too. Don’t carry it too far. Don’t isolate yourself or your heart when there’s a good man who already cares about you. That’s not wisdom.”

Without waiting for Laura to protest, Elosha left. Inhaling the savory smoke, Laura buried her head in her hands, stemming off the few tears trying to escape. She abandoned her prayers and went to bed, slipping between the soft cotton sheets.

Lying back against the pillow, she tried to force the dance from her mind, but her heart seemed determined to relive it. She enjoyed it. She liked his touch. His smile was handsome. Laura couldn't help her hands that drifted over her breasts, her belly, her thighs as she thought of how warmed and flushed she became during the dance. It wasn’t until the early hours that she finally fell into a restless sleep.

…

Lying back against the pillow, she tried to force the dance from her mind, but her heart seemed determined to relive it. It wasn't until the early hours that she finally fell into a restless sleep.

…

Spending miserable nights sleeping on the hard ground during military campaigns taught Bill to appreciate the warmth of a castle and the softness of a bed. During wartime campaigns, soldiers valued sleep as a precious commodity needed to restore the body or they'd surely fall in battle. Long marches, bad food, and swinging a sword taught a man to fall asleep with ease. But tonight sleep eluded Adama.

It was maddening, the way she had already slipped under his armor; he could almost feel her hand reaching for his heart. He'd believed himself over such feelings, but as he stared up at the ceiling of his room, he knew that wasn't the case. His mind savored her image, recalling how she swirled on the dance floor while her calculating mind took stock of the silly court. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her, and it irked and pleased him until his mind was one jumbled tangle of emotion.

His wife-to-be was a spirited woman with a smart mouth, clear intelligence, and a kind heart. He stretched in his bed and thought about their dance.

Then, she'd run. He'd already noticed the guarded way she acted, and her behavior warned him to tread carefully. She was strong and fierce, but if he scratched beneath the surface of ice, he didn't doubt he'd find a fragile woman used to being hurt and used. That was court life now.

Wanting someone, tying oneself to another, caring for their wants and their needs threatened to make a person vulnerable. Bill considered it weakness, pure and simple. He'd been married once to someone who didn't understand him or his job, derided his body, and disliked him as a whole. The painful marriage and bitter divorce nearly destroyed him. After that, part of him wanted to be left alone in his remote castle with its good men and women. It was too late for that now.

She excited him. She challenged him. She liked him if those fire-filled eyes while they danced could be believed. Breathless by the end, the swell of her breasts lifted tantalizingly as she gulped down air. He felt his blood burning as he remembered the sight, and heat gathered in his groin. Did she frak with that same intensity, kissing and pressing against her partner in passion? Just that question had him swelling in growing arousal.

His fantasy continued. He toyed with the idea of those smoldering eyes looking at him while he freed her from those rich gowns. The idea of her naked body stiffened him completely under the covers. He pushed the material to the side and stroked himself through the thin material of his pants.

He enjoyed self-pleasure. No expectations constricted his enjoyment, and no one witnessed his desires and thought there was something wrong with him. He pushed the cotton pants down, freeing his length so that his thick fingers could grip his thicker cock. Anticipation rippled through him.

He pictured Laura, his wife-to-be, and her fair skin that begged to be touched and kissed. His fingers squeezed his cock, pumping his shaft and sending pleasure spiking through his body. Although a prim and proper lady, he wondered, if she would arch into his touch. He pictured being allowed to trace over rosy peaks, along her belly, until he reached the apex of her thighs. He imagined how she'd moan when his fingers circled her as teased her. He wanted her to welcome his touch. Sweat broke out on his chest and brow, fist tugging faster at his cock.

The idea of sinking a finger deep into her heat and finding her wet for him caused Bill to groan out loud. She'd desire him. He imagined the passion between them and the scent of her desire embracing him. She'd whimper his name, and he'd kiss those pink lips and promise to take care of her. The vivid image had his excitement growing even higher.

He imagined their lovemaking would leave her hair a disheveled mess of rich auburn curls across the pillow, and he anticipated letting his hands tangle in it as he positioned himself at her entrance. What kind of lover would he be with her? Slow and gentle? What type of touch did she like? How would she react to his thick cock pushing its way inside her, forcing her to accommodate his girth?

In his mind they moved together as one, devilish and tender, sweet and ecstatic. In his dream, the two equals continued to come together, eager to relish the pleasure of being one. Without warning, his dream lover bent to whisper three words into his ear. Where had that come from?

Bill's breathing became erratic as he felt the tension reach a peak in him. The heat in his body spread out, surging through his nerves, until he achieved release. He shuddered, hips bucking and twitching as he rode the pleasurable high. 

Heart still pounding from the fantasy, he cleaned himself up and redressed, deciding not to think about the three words his dream whispered. Once he was fully clothed, he sat on the edge of the bed, and remembered that Laura remained a high-born lady of the court, and such abandoned behavior wouldn't be considered proper. Besides, there were those walls around her heart he needed to patiently climb first. He knew he wanted to at least earn her trust.

There was no use denying that he wanted her, and he hoped against hope she'd desire him when their wedding night came.

…

They didn't spend the next day together. Bill decided to give Laura space, remembering the frightened look in her eye after they danced. Instead, he let her attend her business without pushing in, knowing there were petitioners from her lands that had come to talk to her. He wanted to allow her to see to them alone even though in a week their assets would by law be combined. He'd slowly let her know she was safe with him and that he respected her independence.

However, when the time came for dinner, he approached her chambers. There was no feast tonight, but they'd passed every evening together since the joust. It had taken some searching, but he'd rescued a bottle of Tauron plum brandy from Tigh and thought Laura would appreciate the gesture.

Upon arrival, one of her guards informed him that the king had requested her presence for the evening-the whole evening. He caught the meaning and his heart seemed to shatter.

"Remember Laura, there is a way out of the marriage." He remembered King Richard telling her, and gritting his teeth, Bill marched away as his thoughts ran down dark paths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I warned; it is gratuitous, and it has smut. I’ve never written masturbation before, but there we go. Masturbation with character development.
> 
> Richard needs his butt kicked, Bill needs a hug, and Laura needs to get away from court.
> 
> And so continues on the fic we never knew we needed...thoughts?


	4. History

She was being watched. Caprica City's Carillon Castle, King Richard's preferred residence, bustled with the coming and goings of court life. The people parted for a lady of the court, and Laura breezed through the polished stone halls. With each step, she sensed the beady-eyed stares from the men charged with following her. The king employed a small force of spies dedicated to keeping an eye on her and her household. She remained a powerful piece on the kingdom's chessboard, a target for intrigue and plots. There was also the simple fact that knowing how his favorite pawn passed her time delighted Richard, made him feel powerful.

Appareled in a silvery gray damask gown ornamented with tiny seed pearls sewn on the bodice, Laura swept through the halls with none of her spy-ladies following the sweeping fabric of her gown. People noticed her unaccompanied state. Nothing in court went unobserved; even the walls had eyes. She picked up her pace, needing to be outside the stifling oppression of the court.

Anger bubbled deep in her belly. There was a time when Laura walked these halls freely, secure in the knowledge that she was safe and surrounded by a loving family. That time was lost to her. Now Laura felt a hazy darkness at the edges of her world like a crouching nightmare that waited to spring and devour her. Although the spies waited for the moment she put a toe out of line, Laura never let her guard down due to everything she'd experienced.

Laura thought about how close she'd come to dropping her mask while dancing with her husband-to-be. On the surface, Commander Adama remained harsh and unemotional, but something about him gave her pause. It unnerved Laura deeply. She still wasn't sure she even liked him.

To her dismay, Richard noticed the sparks flying between his favorite toy and the commander. Richard's universe quickly narrowed to focus on her as jealousy tainted his vision. He'd summoned her last night, yanking the chain that by his power as king bound everyone to him.

...

_The world knew that King Richard had become a volatile man with a mighty temper that the most powerful men in the country feared. In her rooms, Laura had been anticipating the company of Commander Adama, their quiet evenings becoming an almost pleasant routine. When the page from the king arrived, her spirits fell. Laura couldn't refuse a king's summons. Following the king's man, it struck her that she'd rather spend time in William Adama's company._

_The page announced Laura's arrival to the king. Richard turned from the window and watched the woman of his desires walk in with her head held high before sweeping into a curtsy. To Richard, this woman looked more a queen than his wife; beautiful, confident, and graceful. More than a queen, Richard thought, watching the beams from the setting sun streak through the window and catch her in their grasp. Her body was magnificent like a fiery Aphrodite-auburn hair, slender waist, and well curved hips. He pounced the second she rose._

_Laura recognized this as one of Richard's volatile moods. Now lust driven, wine filled, and conceited, the temperate king who chatted with her at the tourney was gone for the time being. His hands grabbed her waist and she swayed a little, surprised at his force, but not protesting. It was treason to raise a hand against the king, but she didn't encourage his actions either. She once had but no longer._

_He wasted no words but kissed her hard with a demanding passion. Seized by his fit of jealousy, Richard's kisses were full of all the possessiveness and longing he felt for Laura. Tracing the curve of her upper lip with his tongue and nipping at her hungrily, Richard refused to let up until satisfied._

_"I want you," he murmured in her ear. Laura suppressed a groan. He wanted her the way a hunter wanted the first blood of a wild hunt or the way a jouster wanted his prize. His passion was selfish. He trailed hot kisses down her neck while she fought to keep her breathing under control. Unsatisfied with her passivity, his teeth sank into her delicate skin just above the bodice of her dress, hard enough to make her gasp._

_"Become my official mistress."_

_"My future husband won't like that."_

_"He'll probably refuse to marry you," Richard laughed. Infidelity was grounds to call off a betrothal, and reason enough for a man to set aside his wife._

_"I agreed to marry him. Vows before the gods are serious things, your grace."_

_"You fancy him," Richard accused with bitterness lacing through his words as he pressed her back against one of the walls carved with reliefs of famous kings in their country's past. The strong hands gripping her waist held Laura in place,_ _and her breathing hitched at the restriction and the indignity. To distract her mind, Laura entertained herself with the thought of such great men looking down in judgment on their tyrant successor, a man she'd once liked well enough. Only glimpses of the old Richard remained._

_In days past, she'd allowed him to take his pleasure in her and in return she'd used her close proximity to the king to influence his mind more adeptly than his most trusted ministers. The arrangement no longer suited her. He'd changed. He'd never been a good or thoughtful lover, but she had encouraged and endured his touch when it brought her the power to help steer her family's kingdom. As time passed, Richard learned the extensive power of a king, and it went to his head._

_"Laura?"_

_"Sorry, I was distracted for a moment."_

_A bejeweled hand clasped around her neck, red from the rubies reflected off her pale skin. When the detached Lady Laura didn't meet his eyes, Richard focused on the softness under his hand and the way the rubies sparkled against her throat as he squeezed and released the tender area. Dark thoughts burned in his jealous head at her casual indifference of his hand at her throat and the attentions he bestowed on her. His tone became mocking as he entertained himself with his words. "Thinking of him? Of what it'll be like to have a soldier in your bed? How his old, scarred face will look down at you while his bulk pins you to the mattress. The great Laura Roslin and her simple soldier. You'd choose him over a king?!" He wanted to frighten her with what her future held if she didn't choose him. Her stubborn refusal to be his official mistress no longer entertained him, and Richard watched for the moment when she'd acquiesce to him._

_He reveled in his power._

_"Well, the king was the one who chose him for me." Laura watched his face contort in disgust as he thought of someone else touching her. His distracted state gave her the opening to twist away from him, and she moved to put the heavy wood chairs between them. Richard only listened to himself now, but while the long years made him arrogant, they forged her into something stronger. She'd willingly give him nothing again._

_"Laura, my love, he was supposed to help you make the right choice. Why marry a soldier when I'm giving you a way out? Be my official mistress," he asked sweetly, trying to tempt her with honey._

_"No."_

_Laura flinched at Richard's roar of outrage and prayed to Athena that she hadn't just miscalculated. He slammed his fist against the small table, sending cups of wine scattering across the floor. She hid her shaking hands by clasping them tightly together in front of her. He could force her to stay in his presence. He could force her to stay at court. He could force himself on her. But now she'd force him to do it with the knowledge that she didn't want him._

...

After last night, the grandeur of the palace felt smothering and dark in comparison to the butter-yellow sunlight Laura had glimpsed in the gardens from her window. She noticed the breeze that swept through the leaves and sent ripples along the water in large fountains with their statues depicting the gods. She decided to escape for a bit.

A guard nodded his respect and opened a heavy oak door, and Laura burst outside like a gust of wind. The scent of the last of the sweet-smelling gardenias hit her, mixing with the smell of fresh grass and dew-soaked soil. Laura quickly set off toward the gardens. She imagined Richard's dogs wouldn't be far behind.

She wanted space. The last few days had thrown her life into chaos.

She plunged through the rows of rose bushes, carefully planned and planted by her father simply because they were her mother's favorite flower. Theirs had been a happy union; her father and mother cherished one another deeply. In her grieving heart, Laura carried the memories of her family. She thought of her parent's and how they looked at each other like their partner was the center of the universe; affection flowed freely between them. Edward Roslin had promised his beloved daughter and heir the same kind of match in time. What a dream it had been.

Laura stopped, finally alone. The heady floral scent of roses surrounded her as she regained her breath. With each rose-scented inhale, her old desires of love and family plagued her heart. Reality dragged her into Richard's arranged marriage. The match her father promised was lost to her. At least the fresh air soothed her weary soul.

In the distance, she heard the ringing clash of swords. The sound didn't alarm Laura; she knew that a nearby field was used for training by palace guards. Curiosity dragged her toward the metallic song like never before. Only a few days separated her from her arranged marriage to a soldier. Such training would have made up his life.

On the green, it surprised her to discover Adama's men alongside her own. Sweat soaked faces suggested they'd been training for some time, but Laura didn't remember ordering her men to participate in drills. Frowning, she observed the sparring soldiers.

Two armored figures seemed to command the attention of many onlookers. The bulkier of the figures pressed his attack, causing his opponent to stumble backward clumsily. To her chagrin, Laura recognized the man who lost his footing as Captain Venner, head of her personal guard. Venner tried to recover, swinging his blade in a down cut, but the powerful blow was easily swept aside. Venner faced an intimidating opponent, a man strong enough to send Laura's captain staggering backward after a hard bash to the chest. Before he could recover, the man's blade was at Venner's neck.

"Yield!" Venner shouted and his opponent immediately dropped his blade, accepting victory. When the victor took off his helm, Laura recognized the dark hair and olive-toned face. Commander Adama strode toward Captain Venner, but Laura couldn't follow their conversation, the sound of her own pounding blood in her ears drowned out what the clash of training didn't. She knew Commander Adama was a soldier but watching him swing a broadsword so easily frayed her already jangled nerves.

Confronted with her husband-to-be's substantial physical power, she frantically recalled his earliest words to her. The commander had promised to be a good husband; Laura dared hope that meant he'd never raise a hand against her. With how easily he'd overpowered her captain, Laura realized she'd be completely defenseless if he chose to harm her. Unbidden, Richard's words came to her, and she thought darkly of the coming wedding night. She'd seen the desire burning in Adama's eyes, and he'd easily be able to take what would be his by law.

She felt cold.

Then she felt angry at the stupid world in which she lived.

With her cold fury, she watched as Commander Adama chided her men like they were his own soldiers. They hadn't joined houses yet, and he presumed too much. She took pride in running her households well. She ensured her people remained safe and cared for, and now she'd be forced to co-exist with a husband she'd had little choice in marrying. Her hands clenched in fists when Venner laughed; in Laura's eyes she saw her loyal men being bent to answer to another.

As the signet ring of her house dug into her palm, she realized that King Richard picked the perfect husband for his problem pawn.

Laura supposed her biggest problem was that Commander Adama had little reason to be loyal to her. In fact, so advantageous a marriage gave him reason to be grateful and loyal to the king. If bidden, her future husband could become her eventual jailer. Laura feared being controlled and subdued in such a manner. Richard played his cards well; mistress or wife, both options ultimately kept her contained.

This was why Laura avoided making friends and finding supporters. Who could she trust? She judged it better to protect herself and keep her head attached. It also kept her heart safe.

Venner clasped his future master on the shoulder before pairing off against the woman she recognized as Kara. Meanwhile, some of the men noticed their lady watching them. Tigh, the man she'd come to know as the commander's right-hand man, nudged his friend's arm and nodded to where Laura stood. He turned and spotted her; surprise written on his face.

Sheathing his sword, Commander Adama made his way to her. Laura stood her ground as he approached in his gleaming metal chest plate, and they both greeted each other formally. His curious eyes took in her unexpected appearance, but whether he minded or not she couldn't tell.

"Were you looking for me?" he asked.

"No," Laura said, and it sounded harsh even in her ears. She calmed the cold fire in her. "I heard swords while walking in the gardens."

"Just some sparring."

"So I saw," Laura said, her eyes glancing down at the sheathed broadsword. She squared her shoulders and looked back into piercing blue eyes. "Why are you training my men?"

"They needed it."

"They're good soldiers."

Commander Adama chuckled dryly at yet another disagreement between them. Their own verbal sparring could be just as energizing as swinging a sword. "I'll be the judge of that, I think, being a soldier myself after all. Besides, if they met my standards, you wouldn't be out walking the castle grounds alone."

Laura bristled and her irritation coiled around her. Her eyes narrowed at him while sharp comments about not tolerating his overbearing tendencies came to mind. Too well bred to let her remarks fly and rip into him in public, she took a step back.

"I prefer to be alone," she countered.

Intending to turn on her heels and walk away, he was quicker.

"What if I join you?" he asked. Known for his stony, reserved nature, the forward question surprised him as much as it did her. Adama regarded his headstrong wife-to-be.

"If that is what you wish, commander."

Adama beckoned to a nearby boy who helped remove the chest plate and took his sword. After his failed gesture of friendship last night, Tigh decided his frustrated friend needed to swing a sword at something. Many soldiers in both households joined in, and Adama had fallen into the role of military leader naturally and started drills. He'd spoken truthfully; her soldiers had needed it, but it felt good to be surrounded by something so familiar. Still hot and on edge from sparring, he tempered those feelings after noticing something curious when he spotted Laura. For a tiny moment when he turned, he glimpsed at some part of Laura that was vulnerable. He'd also noticed how she glanced at his broadsword with a faint sparkle of fear in her eyes.

The desire he felt during their first meeting, the urge to bend her will, was truly melting. It seemed to be morphing into a hope that he might come to understand her. He took the lady's hand and tucked it in under his elbow, the picture of a knight with his lady. She looked good beside him. He admitted she was a beauty; he couldn't help but appreciate the way her dress flowed over her curves. He also noticed the tension strung through her body. Whatever progress they'd made toward each other in their evening fireside chats and the passionate dance, Lady Laura had taken a huge step back from it.

"My lady, I only had your safety in mind," he offered as they walked. Blood cooling after sparring, he realized that finding a way to live with someone so aloof and proud wouldn't be easy. "If you recall, I did promise to keep you safe even if you refuse to be a traditional, obedient Caprican wife."

"I remember," she said softly. "And my refusal still stands."

 _Gods be damned_ , Adama thought. She was untamable and dangerous. Her spirit ignited something in him, and he found that her fire wasn't something he wanted to take away from her. He needed her to listen to him though; he needed her to not undermine him. Adama stopped and pulled her around to face him.

"Noted," Adama groused. He decided to roll a hard six and ask her the question that burned in his mind straight out. "What will it take for you to trust me?"

Laura, stunned and about to wrench herself free of his grasp, stopped and met his eyes. His strong grip tugged at the fear she'd felt when witnessing his strength, but in his blue eyes she found warmth and compassion. She swallowed hard. Pulsing around them was that indefinable feeling that pulled them together. She wanted to melt into his gaze; for all the fire in her soul there was also weariness and longing. She ached for home, family, and rest.

"Let me go," she whispered instead.

Immediately he dropped his hands from her arms. She looked surprised at his quick and easy compliance.

Tired after sparring and weary of politics, Adama summoned all the patience that remained in him. He saw something fragile about Lady Laura, and it warned him against breaking down the walls she'd built to protect herself. Better that he wait until she was ready to let him in, Adama strategized. He'd learned it was better not to fight if it could be avoided.

He spoke soothingly. "I never want to hurt you. I hope you know that. And I would see you remain safe, no matter how much a spitfire you decide to be," he said bluntly. "I want you to trust me."

"If I can't?

"I'll still try to earn your trust."

Although still jaded by his past marriage, Adama looked at Laura and didn't see an enemy, but his wife-to-be. When had he softened toward her like this? He regarded his future wife, her cheeks flushed red with the turbulent emotions swirling through her. Her beguiling green eyes, hooks to her soul, searched his with unsure trepidation. He realized she wanted to trust him but couldn't. Not yet.

Stepping back, he offered her his arm again, and, after a moment's hesitation, she accepted the offer. Together they walked through the extensive gardens. Like the rest of the palace, the gardens were exquisitely planned and cultivated. They wandered down a hedgerow where the plants grew tall and thick, and they felt cut off from the rest of the world.

"Where did you go last night, Laura?" The use of her name stunned them both, and Adama tried to remember if he'd taken a blow to the head during training.

"The king ordered me to join him, William."

"Bill," he corrected.

Laura gave an unexpected smile. She always thought names had power. Giving or allowing someone the use of a personal name or a nickname was an intimate thing. She liked his name; it seemed solid like him. "Suits you."

His eyes met hers, serious and searching. He sounded so calm during the conversation; Laura realized. She wondered if it didn't matter to him what she was going to say. Was his personality indifference or quiet confidence? Despite his calm, a sense of tightly contained energy emanated from him.

"He wants you to be his official mistress, doesn't he?"

"You knew?"

He nodded. Saul, the dutiful best friend, had relayed the rumors of her and the king's previous affairs. "Soldiers see and hear things."

"I told him no." _Good_ , Bill thought. He didn't share. Loyalty and vows meant something to him.

"I was supposed to push you into his arms," he realized, another piece of the puzzle falling into place for him.

"His plan didn't work out well. I'd rather an honorable marriage than being shut away in a temple, executed, or chained to the king as his mistress."

"I think that’s the first positive thing you’ve said about our marriage," Bill said wryly.

"I'm sorry." Laura lowered her eyes apologetically. She knew there was no possible way the commander had asked for this marriage, and it dragged him into a mess of court politics. Some men clawed and snarled their way to bigger and better things, but Adama—Bill didn't strike her as such a person.

"You've slept with him before though?"

Laura really wasn't used to such frank conversations. She nodded her head as a blush spread across her skin.

"How did this all happen?"

Everyone in the kingdom knew the series of disasters that plagued the Roslin family. Laura summarized it for Adama briefly, as detached as possible. First her uncle died, leaving only an infant son, James, as an heir, so the second brother seized the throne. Children's reigns were unsure things, and the people grudgingly accepted it even if they cursed his presumptuousness.

"Rebellions happened. Frightened kings do bad things," Laura offered as she explained the disappearance of little James. He was now long presumed dead. Laura's voice cracked as she relayed the rest of the story. Bill covered her hand with his own as he listened to how Edward Roslin, the youngest of the three Roslin brothers, and his entire family save Laura perished in the great fire at Kobol Castle. No one knew who started it.

"You became the last true-born Roslin," Bill said sympathetically.

"My delight and curse," Laura laughed bitterly and told him about how her uncle the king's agents seized her out of her own bed one night. With the king bleeding supporters every day since the disappearance of James, many turned to her. As a result the king imprisoned her in dark rooms where the cold seeped into her bones. Her jailers weren't kind. "I constantly waited for my death warrant to arrive."

Bill knew most of the story already but hadn't realized the extent of her treatment at the hands of her own uncle. He recalled how the kingdom descended into chaos. Many declared the former king's reign cursed. The people called him a bastard. Some men said James lived. Several claimants vied for the throne, and the conflict boiled down to the cruel king and Richard Adar whose grandmother was born with the Roslin name. Although Laura didn't say (always on guard in cases she spoke treason), Bill recalled that many had supported Laura's own claim to the throne as the last Roslin. However, Caprica had never seen a reigning queen and she remained imprisoned away from her supporters.

Bill was glad he'd been charged with keeping their borders secure from the Cylons during this time. It had been chaos.

"Richard won the crown off the battlefield. The day after the battle, he came to my rooms and promised to take care of me. I hadn't seen the sun in months, I hadn't eaten in days, my house was in disarray, my people scared. He took me to court and restored my father's lands and titles to me. You can imagine the relief it was," Laura said. She could tell her partner was shocked by the story.

"You never want to be imprisoned again," he said.

"I do fear it," Laura admitted, giving him this kernel of trust. "After his coronation, when the king pursued me, I let him have what he wanted," Laura said bluntly.

"You're too good for him."

Laura shrugged. "The arrangement suited me. It kept me safe and allowed me some influence over the king. I was able to champion causes for my people. I rebuilt my house," Laura said. Her influence had once rivaled the king's most trusted ministers. She didn't add the remainder of the story. It would betray too much of her anger at how Richard played it. Laura's supporters assumed Richard would marry Laura the moment his sick, barren wife died. No one would ask for Laura as a wife while she was in the king's keeping. Thus Richard stole her and her followers. Tragically for Laura, she didn't conceive a child by Richard and thus gave him no good reason to set aside his wife, and the queen held onto life. The status quo never changed, and Laura carved out what place she could. Now the king grew fearful of her.

"You care about your people," Bill said with a bit of admiration.

"Very much. Although, there's little I can do for them anymore. My influence isn't what it was." Laura sighed. "The king's unable to marry me and through that keep the support of my house. As his official mistress, I'd be bound to him in a different way. But I don't care for court, Bill. I'd much rather live quietly in the country now."

"I'm your way out," Bill said _._ He reflected on her story. Hearing the history of the kingdom from her perspective was a strange thing, and he sympathized with what she'd gone through. In a strange way, he admired her fortitude. Intelligent and clever, she seemed far more complex than who he'd initially seen.

They walked again in silence for a time. Laura noticed that his hand stayed on hers, caressing the skin. His touch seemed remarkably gentle for someone so stoic and brusque.

They emerged from the hedgerows, near the great fountain of Poseidon whose clever builder created jets of water that rose around him and arced across the huge stone basin. Bill led them over to a bench where they sat. A gentle breeze drifted over them as they watched the water glinting in the sun. Red fish swam around lazily.

"I'm happy you told me the story," Bill said. "Thank you." He realized she'd told him practically nothing he couldn't have found out from court gossip or enough digging in her history. Hearing it from her perspective, with the wrenching honesty and sadness interwoven through the tale, meant something more to him. She might not trust him with her innermost thoughts, but he'd made some progress with her.

"I won't betray the vows I make to you," Laura assured him.

"You really are not what I expected," Bill said, regarding the redhaired woman on his arm and fondly remembering their dance.

…

Neither of them realized how long they'd sat in companionable silence. Both of them were thinking of the past and contemplating the person next to them.

The mood shattered when the king's men entered their little corner of the garden and marched over to them. The grim-faced men caused Laura to shoot a nervous glance at Bill who looked just as puzzled as she felt. The couple stood at the unwelcome party's approach.

"Lady Laura, the king has summoned you to appear before him." Laura's body tensed as she caught her breath. She really didn't want to see Richard after last night and dreaded what an official summons meant after her rejection of him.

"Why?" Bill demanded. Laura felt a chill race down her spine at the sharpness in Bill's tone. He'd been unexpectedly soft with her that day, but he remained a commanding force to be reckoned with.

"My lord, the king has not said. I'm simply to escort her to the king's presence immediately."

"You may lead us, but I will escort her."

"The king did not —"

"Lady Laura is my wife-to-be as the king has commanded. If the king has need of her, then he should be more than pleased to have us both." Bill certainly had bravery. Laura covered her strangled laugh at the stricken look on the man's face. How could anyone (but her) refuse the commander when he used that tone. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful or chagrined at her future husband's antics.

"Yes, my lord," the king's man said demurely. Bill once again offered Laura his arm.

They remained quiet as they followed the king's men. Fresh gardens gave way to stifling castle walls again. Laura heard the hushed whispers from the court as they neared the king's presence chamber. When they entered the room, the murmurings seemed to swirl around her and Bill like clouds of smoke. They were escorted to where the king sat in his great chair under the cloth of estate. Laura dropped a curtsy while Bill bowed as both were expected.

"Lady Laura Roslin and Commander Adama."

The king sat flinty faced as he looked between the two of them.

"There has been troubling disloyalty," he finally said coldly. His angry eyes betrayed the hideous burst of outrage waiting to be released. For the most part, the king ignored the commander, but looked at Laura as if she might burst into the flames of rebellion. His eyes roamed over her, looking for signs of treason.

"What do you know of it, Lady Laura?" he asked.

"Nothing, your grace."

"No?!" The king leapt up, his rage bursting free and leaving him shaking all over in fury. In his hand he crunched a letter that he threw to Laura's feet. "Am I to believe, my lady, that the Sagittarian King Thomas Zarek has ordered his agents in this kingdom to spirit you away to him without your knowledge? Does he plan to marry you before raising an army against me without your consent?"

Laura trembled. King Thomas Zarek was no fool. If he planned on making such a move, it was because he believed his cause just and possible. He'd move like this only if prepared and ready.

"I had no knowledge," Laura said. Her body shook in fear. To her surprise, she felt the soft touch of Bill's hand on the small of her back. The gentle pressure seemed to soothe her by promising she wasn't alone. She looked up at the king, keeping her fears under control.

"He must have had support for such a move from you or your supporters," Richard accused.

"No, your grace."

"Nevertheless, the peace of my kingdom is being challenged," Richard said spitefully. "Traitors will regret challenging the peace and majesty of my reign!"

Laura waited as the king stared daggers at her. Meanwhile, Bill remained a steady, strong presence beside her.

"Adama," the king said. "I entrust you with her. Keep the lady confined to her rooms. I place you in charge of her money chests and household. I want her writing no letters. I want her scheming no plots. I expect to see you both in the temple in five days ready to be married."

"Yes, your grace," he said, obediently accepting the kings wishes. Laura felt her world crash around her. She stepped away from Bill; it seemed her husband to be would be her jailer after all. The previously doused cold fury welled up in her again as she looked at Bill's stony face.

"Get out of my sight," the king ordered. Bill took hold of Laura's arm and pulled her from the room, heading towards her chambers.

"You promised," Laura snapped. _He promised to keep me safe._

"I did."

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Another fun little installment of this strange little a/u. I’m just having fun with this gratuitous bit of fanfic. I secretly thrive on reviews and comments. 


	5. Choices

Waiting in her locked rooms, Laura sat and cursed Adama’s name. Caught in a cloud of anger, she bitterly recalled the brief moments when she believed it possible to grow to trust him. Pleasantly surprised at his kindness, she’d even believed it possible to like the man who’d walked beside her through the gardens. Now she felt like a naïve fool.

Laura tried to keep her attention focused on the book in her lap, hoping the words could keep her from sparing a thought for Commander Adama. Neither he nor his guard-dogs deserved her attention. Staring at the words without reading them, her plan for distraction failed.

Her ire bloomed as she recalled how quickly Adama jumped to obey the king’s command and how thoroughly he jailed her. She still felt the imprint from where his hand had grabbed and pulled her from the King’s presence chamber. _But earlier that day,_ Laura thought, _his blue eyes felt like they were looking into my sou_ — _no, no,_ she gritted her teeth and shoved such musings out of her mind. If she cared to reflect, then she’d do better to remember how she’d caught him twisting the loyalty of her own guards.

She shifted on the embroidered pillows where she rested in the window nook and read a little more. Although Adama kept invading her thoughts, it was at least easy enough to ignore his guards. In these troubled times, the click of a soldier’s steel-clad toes against the cobblestone streets rang like a familiar note to everyone in the capitol. Heads no longer turned at the presence of knights in shining armor patrolling the city. Caprica City maintained a constant state of alertness against the threat of riots and looters. Since Richard took the throne, unrest grew everywhere, and the people tested the peace.

A frustrated groan escaped her when she attempted to read the same sentence a third time. Looking up from her book, she tensed at the guards she saw posted outside at the foot of the window. _Does that man really think I’m irrational enough to make an undignified escape attempt out a frakking window?_ she seethed. It was almost tempting to try. Her blood felt hot in her veins at her freedoms so curtailed. That she’d so recently confessed her fear of imprisonment to him only made the situation all the more biting. In her level-headed moments, she admitted that he tried to be considerate, choosing her own manor house in Caprica City as a jail.

_Thorough and considerate_ , Laura huffed. Those were two potent traits that many of her ladies complained their partners lacked. _Too bad he’s also insufferable._

_Stop thinking of him._

Laura flipped a page. She had no company; Adama had laid down his law at her imprisonment and refused to allow her own staff to serve her and her ladies were turned away. Despite being in her own home with its familiar thick tapestries and the brightly painted wooden beams above her head, every so often Laura turned her head and saw a dark, dismal room instead. She could honestly admit that the imprisonment her uncle subjected her to didn’t resemble her current situation. These rooms were scented with herbs and lavender with sunlight streaming in through the open windows. Still, a prison was a prison and the sunlight felt cold on her skin.

At least the trade-off of being wedded and bedded would mean that the restrictions on her freedom would be eased. Laura just wished she could stop dwelling on the man who would be doing the wedding. _And the bedding,_ a nervous voice in her mind whispered. Laura’s hands curled tightly around her book; at the moment she hated the idea of calling her jailer ‘husband’ even if the marriage would give her some semblance of security. Once married, they could live away from court and far from Richard. Adama was, admittedly, still the lesser devil.

“My lady,” a gravelly voice greeted her. _Speak of the devil._ She refrained from flinging her book at her visitor’s head. She slowly turned her attention to her husband-to-be, her gaze raking over his form that was garbed in a brown velvet doublet. William Adama, Lord of Galactica Castle and Commander of the Army, looked as impassive as ever, and it infuriated her all the more. She painted a pleasant smile on her face, but remained seated in his presence, affording him a less polite greeting.

“My lord,” she replied with a chill in her voice. “Why are you here?”

“I hoped to keep you company.”

A surprised bitter bark of laughter escaped Laura. _What nerve,_ she thought. She was far too skilled in courtly games to allow Adama to see any more of her anger or weaknesses. “An interesting offer, my lord. But I’m surprised; your men seem capable of watching me all by themselves. I’m sure there are ways you’d rather spend your time.”

“I’m not here as a guard,” Adama growled, taken aback at her haughty tone. His own temper rose at her obvious distaste for his presence. It wasn’t like he was overjoyed to be there either. He’d figured she’d be less than pleased to see him, but the honorable thing to do was to check on his charge.

He closed the distance between them with a few steps but stopped when her eyes narrowed. Her forced smile didn’t falter, but Adama knew better than to step closer to a woman with such a flinty look in her eyes.

“I don’t like this situation any more than you do,” he said.

“I _highly_ doubt that. I’ve done nothing to deserve _any_ of this.”

They studied one another. Bill watched how Laura stayed pressed back into the window nook. Dressed in a tastefully low-necked gown of flowing deep purple velvet with strings of black pearls around her neck, her outfit heightened how much paler she’d become. She looked hauntingly beautiful. Even her bitterest enemy could not deny that she was an attractive woman, but Bill had begun to believe that she had something that truly set her apart from any other. But he saw how on edge she was, her mask slipping just enough for him to glimpse her fear and anger. _She really must have horrid memories,_ Adama realized and felt a twinge of guilt for what the king had forced him to do.

“I’m fully aware you haven’t earned such imprisonment. I certainly don’t think you deserve marriage to me.” His body tensed. He didn’t know where that last sentence came from, but he hadn’t meant to say it. Despite his frustration, he forced his fist to unclench. “The king gave me an order and I obeyed as is my duty.”

“And so quickly and thoroughly.” Despite the anger smoldering under her words, her eyes flashed with a sort of grim amusement instead. “So, for good or ill my fate is now completely in your hands.”

“For good or ill?” _What else could I have done?_ _What does she expect me to do to her?_ Their gazes locked in a battle of wills, but Bill only succeeded in noticing she used her iron will to protect the part of her that was a scared, caged woman. His shoulders sagged. He hadn’t come here to do battle with her.

_I’d wanted to gain her trust_ , he remembered. He couldn’t expect her to simply hand such a gift over, and he certainly couldn’t bully the idea into her head. She required a softer touch. He tried to explain. “My lady, if any of the king’s spies care to look, they will see you surrounded by my men and without visitors. Meanwhile, you live at your house in safety. I am keeping my word to you, and after we are married, I will also take you away from the capitol-as you wanted. We’ll go to Galactica. Until then, we bide our time and arouse no suspicion. I am not your enemy, Laura. I’m doing what I can to fulfill my promise.” 

Laura didn’t reply but contemplated the sense in his words. She noticed that however stoic Bill kept his face, those blue eyes of his revealed exactly what he was feeling. Anger flashed in their blue depths, and she realized how very much he hated being doubted.

“Are you really here to simply keep me company right now?” she asked softly. Her head tilted to the side. “You don’t seem to like me enough for such a kind gesture.”

“You don’t know that.” _Do I even like her?_ He certainly desired her. It would be a man of stone who did not want this lady in their bed. Then again, he’d been called a man of stone before. He felt his patience wearing even thinner. “I do know we are in this together, and I’m here because I didn’t think you deserved to suffer alone. Now, may I join you or not?”

_Do I want that? No. Of course not._

“By all means,” Laura said, gesturing to the dark wood chairs in her room.

He seated himself in an armchair adorned with carved shields, which were further engraved with the crest of the Roslin family. A circular, rosewood table stood beside it. Silence fell between them, and they took in each other closely, gazes penetrating one another and neither flinching away. Finally, Laura returned to her book, deigning to give him no more of her overt attentions.

_This is crazy_ , she thought. Instead of turning him away, she’d gone crazy. She’d come up with several harm-inducing things to do to Adama during her house-arrest. Allowing him to stay should be the last thing she wanted, but already she felt calmer at another presence in the room with her. _Damn walking contradiction,_ she thought while privately acknowledging that his presence was solid and grounding. Even so, they were as likely to wind up arguing as they were to have a friendly conversation once giving each other the silent treatment lost its allure. Anyone could see how they aggravated each other.

“Are you done staring?” Laura asked, not even looking up from her book.

“I’m not staring.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I have work to do,” he huffed.

“Then by all means,” Laura said, casually flipping a page and trying not to laugh. She smiled though, allowing herself a small moment to enjoy the way provoking him provided some entertainment.

Making an irritated sound, he turned away from her. _It’s the damn hair,_ he thought. Knowing she’d have no visitors, she left it loose after brushing it until it gleamed. It fell in cascading russet waves around her. From where she sat, the sun reflected off it, making it shine fiercely. Bill liked how very _her_ it seemed _._ With her constant defiant tilt of her chin, challenging eyes, and proud bearing, she might as well be fire incarnate with how able she was to burn those who weren’t careful.

He’d expected her to throw him out on his sorry rear. He sat for some moments, unsure of what to say since he’d been allowed to stay. Finally, he took a crudely drawn map out to study while Laura seemed content with her book. If an outsider walked in, they’d look to be an average couple passing an afternoon together.

…

...

“You’re looking at that piece of paper like it just insulted you,” Laura said after they’d stewed in silence long enough.

“Might as well have,” Bill grumbled. Fabric rustled as Laura rose. Her heals clicked against the polished wood floor with each step she took towards him. When she drew close enough, Bill could smell the essence of rose on her. He found it distracted him from his task at hand.

Standing at his side, Laura had the opportunity to examine him in detail up close. His hair was a thick dark brown with a smattering of grey and a slight wave; Laura fancied it would be soft to run her hands through. The rest of him was severe and imposing, Laura observed, as she looked over his broad chest and arms. She knew he’d be well muscled under the brown clothes he wore. Tearing her gaze from him, she looked at the table.

“What is it?” she asked. On the table, he’d placed what looked to be a map. Incomplete bits of terrain were sketched onto the paper, but he’d added red marks all over as well.

“It’s supposed to be a map of Caprica’s borders. I’ve been charged with creating a plan to bolster our border defenses but somehow have to do it with no information, few men, and even fewer armaments,” he groused. The angry frustration in his tone gave her pause. She’d no idea what his temper might be like or how easily it could be provoked. She’d enjoyed harmlessly needling him, but she shied away from seeing such a storm fully unleashed. Her gut told her the effect would be devastating. She shuddered at the thought of how easily he’d overpower her; he needed to be handled carefully. Laura stepped closer to study his work. What he had must have been pieced together from his own knowledge gained during his substantial military campaigns. “Zarek is only one threat. Admiral Cain’s pirates harass the coasts. Ha’la’tha mercenaries push over the southern border. There’s still the Cylon Empire…” Bill sighed and leaned back in the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You fought the Cylons in the Great War?”

“Yes. I’ve been in many battles, but they were the cruelest enemy I ever faced. War was like sport to them. They’ll always be dangerous as long as they live.”

“Still? Richard thinks they’re gone.”

“Then the king is a moron.” Laura felt herself relax a bit as her esteem of Adama jumped at his brazen honesty. The king was a fool, and she’d known that for a while. Adama gestured to part of the paper. “They’re hiding behind their borders for now. They’ll always be our greatest enemy. But I can’t even get a good map to help create a plan for our defenses.”

Laura debated with herself for a moment.

“Come with me,” she said softly. “I’d like to show you something.”

Frowning at her air of mystery, Bill decided to indulge her. He stood and followed her out of the room, nodding at the guards as they passed. He noticed Laura’s tension each time they drew close to the men-at-arms, but she never lost her step. She led him through the halls of her house. Bill might not be a man of great means, but he prided himself on his refined taste. Her judged her home to be stunning; tasteful and artistic with an aura of serenity. The Roslins had decorated their halls with stunning sculptures from their myths and legends, as well as tapestries of nymphs in languorous poses. She led him past countless displays of art and into a room as big as a great hall.

Instead of feasting tables, there were shelves of dark oak wood. Each shelf was completely filled with scrolls and books. Tall tables with crystal inkpots and sharpened quills were spaced in the center of the room. It would be easy to take out the books and scrolls and lay them out to study for hours on end. Losing himself in this unexpected treasure trove for hours was precisely what Bill wanted to do. He gaped at the library’s magnificence, his stoic façade falling. 

Laura grinned at Bill’s widened eyes, approving of his reaction. She’d told him her father was a scholar. She strode up to one shelf and gathered several scrolls, thrusting some at Bill who quickly scooped them up in his arms. She spoke while working.

“My father liked maps. When I was young, he’d put me on his lap and showed me all kinds of things; where Sagittaron lay, and the green coasts of Libron. He even had a gilded map made of Leonis where my mother was from.”

With their priceless treasures, she led him to a table where her selections were spread before him. He was treated to a sight of beautifully painted maps, the largest of which depicted Caprica itself. Artists had meticulously captured the Kingdom of Caprica, painting it in bright colors. Lapis blue water, emerald sprawling fields and obsidian black mountains took shape on the paper. Bill realized the pigments used on just one map alone would have cost a pretty penny. Little castles rendered in pressed silver denoted their positions throughout the lands, and Bill easily found Galactica.

“These are incredible.” Bill hadn’t even known a complete map of Caprica existed. This one boasted exquisite craftsmanship and correct details. They were a strategist’s treasure trove.

“My father wanted to create the most detailed maps ever seen of Caprica. He thought they’d be useful, probably for exactly the same reason you have yours. I thought he’d ordered copies made for each castle, but he must have died before…” Laura trailed off.

“It’s a good legacy to leave,” Bill said sympathetically, and Laura smiled sadly at him.

“He’d have been glad to see them used to protect the people of Caprica. As would I.”

For a precious hour, they poured over the maps. Laura forgot her troubles. That she was imprisoned and had wanted to throw Bill Adama out a window faded away. Adama pointed out areas on the border more in danger of invasion to Laura, explaining a little bit about tactics. By looking at the map, he could tell which castles a king needed to hold to keep the kingdom. During their interaction, Bill and Laura slowly opened up, becoming more animated as they shared stories of their adventures throughout the kingdom.

Bill pointed to an area on the map, recounting a story about one of his less glorious campaigns, when he’d been a junior officer. He wove a story of how his foolish commander, for whom Bill had a few choice names, had ordered his force to march through Lerna. Lerna happened to be the muddiest bog in all of Caprica. Laura giggled as he talked about the soldier’s reaction to being covered in mud and strange plants. Bill laughed himself when he recounted how angrily they’d fought the enemy just to make the march worth its misery.

At the moment, Bill felt like he was fighting another war but instead of Cylons this was a battle between his head and his heart. Bill found himself enjoying talking to Laura, pleasantly surprised at how she hung onto his words. He didn’t think himself terribly interesting, but it was nice to know Laura would indulge him by listening. The longer he spent in her presence, the more they subconsciously inched closer to each other.

He wanted to close the distance between them. In his mind, he was already wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him before nuzzling his face into her sweet-smelling hair. He’d thought her attractive before, but he had too much self-control to follow through on the increasing burn of lust. He wondered why she provoked such strong reactions in him.

Laura looked over at Bill and was surprised at how closely he stood. His eyes rested on her, his body radiating heat while hers felt too cold. Laura fought not to shiver. The man standing beside her was aloof and stoic most of the time. _Maddening all of the time,_ she thought.

“What are we doing right now?” Laura asked suddenly, her voice unintentionally dropping into a low, seductive tone.

“Getting along?”

“This shouldn’t be happening. I’m your prisoner…you barely like me.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that and yet I’m not so sure it’s true.”

“You like your women stubborn and contrary?”

“If they’re beautiful redheads too.” _What has gotten into you, old man,_ his inner voice screamed at him. Since when did he flirt? He was a battle-hardened military commander-not some love-struck courtier. He turned back to the map so he couldn’t see her face. He was torn between being angry and embarrassed.

"Thank you." Her soft, sincere tone simultaneously soothed his rancor and quickened his pulse. When had he decided to woo this woman? He certainly didn’t recall making a conscious choice to do so. She was getting to him.

“What’s the rest of this,” Bill asked, changing the subject before she could further comment on his flirtation. He gestured to the other papers on the table.

Reining in her conflicting emotions, Laura took a step away from him. “Most of it is account books. Some of it is building projects. A notice of a road that needs mending here or a dispute that needs settled there. A patronage request or two,” Laura explained with a shrug.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” _Gone from smooth-talker to self-deprecating, haven’t we old man._ Bill felt like burying his head in the Lerna mud.

“You run your castle.”

“I try. My steward helps. I was born the second son and trained to fight. I make no secret of it, Laura. I’m a soldier and that’s what I’m good at. I can command armies with ease but politics, business, castle-running…I wasn’t trained for it and never got the feel for it.” “It will be good for Galactica to have a capable mistress.”

“You intend me to help run it?”

“If you’re willing. You say you’ve run your lands well.”

“My father ensured he’d have a good successor.”

“Seems we’re quite the pair.”

“That, my lord, is the first good thing _you’ve_ said about this marriage. Might I have pen and paper to request the artists make copies of the maps for you?”

“Let me see the letters when you are done,” he suspected the order would irritate her. She clearly liked her freedom, but Bill still had a job to do. Like it or not, it would serve her better if he guarded her thoroughly and thus kept the king appeased.

“Afraid I’ll write and order your death?” Adama laughed outright and tipped his head to her, acknowledging her audacity. She didn’t back down from a challenge. It was another thing about her that made him stir below the belt.

“I wouldn’t be able to whisk you away to that quiet life in the country you wanted.”

“But your life would end up being so much quieter.”

“That would be a shame.” Noticing how relaxed she’d become since he’d arrived, he became conscious of an aching tenderness for Laura that he had never experienced for any other woman before. She was beautiful, intelligent, witty, and stubborn. She was an enigma that had piqued his curiosity more than any other had in such a short time. Something inside him longed to reach out to her, to find a connection with her. His gut twisted when he forced himself to acknowledge that she’d likely never feel the same feelings for him. He still couldn’t stop himself from asking if he could visit again tomorrow.

A shiver raced up her arms, down her spine and settled low in her belly at the husky sound of his voice.

“You’d better.”

…

Laura dropped into a curtsey, her head bowed low and her façade impenetrable. Her trials and tribulations had taught her the art of concealing her emotions; she used every trick to hide how much she hated the sight of the king. She’d dressed in a stunning gown of blue silk embellished with sapphires and rubies. She’d tied a gold belt around her waist to accentuate the curve of her hips. It matched the gold ribbon woven into her plaited auburn hair. Instead of feeling the heated gaze of her husband-to-be, she was cringing under the lecherous gawking of King Richard Adar who’d decided to visit.

She and Adama had spent the last few days together. Satisfied that he hated imprisoning her almost as much as she hated being trapped, she’d thawed more toward him as he had to her. They’d conversed about books, history, music, and anything else that came to mind while flashing each other shy smiles. They’d also argued bitterly about religion and philosophy before glaring at each other for hours afterwards. Certainly, a tumultuous relationship; however, the moment Laura’s mood grew too dark, Bill would pull out a book and read aloud to distract her. She’d hoped it was her husband-to-be arriving at the manor but had found the king instead.

“Your Majesty,” she murmured.

“You may rise, Your Grace,” Richard replied, and Laura swallowed at the sound of her title coming from his lips. Very few times did she use the full honorifics her lineage endowed her with, preferring to draw less attention to herself. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Your Majesty is too generous. I have no need for such gifts.” Even as she said the words, pages brought in the king’s presents and set them on every available surface. They unwrapped the protective paper around the lavish objects, allowing the contents to spill onto the tables. Laura saw the king had gifted her a fine jeweled collar and a necklace made of sparkling diamonds. One man laid out a cloth of black velvet before spilling the contents of his knapsack onto the dark background. Gold earrings and hairpins were spread before her widening gaze. Furs were laid over the backs of chairs, shimmering in the light and promising to be soft to the touch.

“Every bride has need of gifts before her wedding. It makes the wedding night easier to endure.” Laura’s mouth pressed into a thin line. _I will not be bought._ She folded her arms and said nothing. Richard put on what he must have thought to be a charming but contrite smile. “And a King should apologize when he overreacts.”

“You should have known better,” Laura couldn’t resist chiding him. Whatever the court believed, Richard knew that she’d never condone plots against his rule. She had one simple reason; the kingdom didn’t deserve another war of succession. She’d have to wade through blood to claim the throne; no matter how rightfully the throne might belong to her, Laura couldn’t justify what it would cost.

“I’ve missed you, Laura,” Richard breathed. He took her hand in his and placed it over his heart where she could feel it beating under the doublet of red and black brocade. She looked at the king, his outfit furred with ermine and glittering with diamonds, rubies, and a host of both white and black pearls. He so wanted to believe that wealth made a king and money earned him women. “There’s still time to call this off. Let me take care of you.”

Laura was so tired of being used. She’d be glad to be rid of Richard. For the first time in years, she felt a shred of hope for the future. She could live out her life in the peaceful country. While she may not end up with a husband who loved her as her father had wanted for his daughter, she’d have a man who respected her. It would not be the arrangement she had dreamed about as a child, but it would be an honorable life.

“You’ve done your duty and found me a match,” Laura said, pulling away. She noticed a figure lurking in the doorway. For one infinitesimal moment, she looked at the newly arrived Commander. She sensed it like a change in the wind; a make it or break it moment. Having gotten to know the man under the stone façade, she understood his sense of honor. She couldn’t deny the attraction between them.

“You found me a match with a _good_ man. As long as he’ll have me, I’ll marry him.” Laura looked at Richard with pure defiance in her eyes. Although part of her remained guarded; her mind wanted to know if he would continue to be a good, kind husband. Would his eyes burn for her body even after their wedding night? Would he ever find a way to like her instead of simply tolerating her? For a second, she was able to trust it would be alright. She smiled at Bill, hesitant but unguarded, and her heart leapt when she saw a genuine smile returned to her. He nodded in agreement with her words.

“Your Majesty,” Commander Adama said, making his presence known. He bowed to the king, and Laura knew he hated each second of it.

It was Richard who looked truly miserable. Laura could have laughed at how displeased the king looked at his rival’s arrival.

“Commander Adama. Thank you for your diligence in guarding our Lady,” he grinned wickedly at Adama. “I must say I didn’t order or expect such thoroughness,” Richard said, nodding at the multiple guards. “I’m sure Laura has hated it. You needn’t go through so much trouble.” That Adar wanted to cast Adama as the villain was painfully obvious to Laura. While Laura knew Richard’s words to be the desperate swipes form an irritated man, she did note the nervous glance Bill flicked toward her. Without thinking, Laura strode over to Bill and slipped her arm around his in her own possessive gesture. She’d made her choices, and the likes of Richard wasn’t strong enough to rip them apart. Bill reached up to cover her hand gripping his bicep.

“A thorough but considerate jailer,” Laura said. “Although you know it was unnecessary.”

Frustrated beyond measure, for once Richard’s voice forsook him. Laura hadn’t behaved at all as he’d expected in this entire situation. Nothing provoked her back to him. Richard hated the thought of another man touching Laura, and at the sight of the two of them a visceral, primitive abhorrence for Adama rose in him. It mingled with his feelings of regret that he could no longer seduce Laura into his bed. The scarred, lowly soldier had charmed the last rose on the Roslin bush. He fumed silently as he considered them both.

“Caution is always warranted, Laura,” he warned her. “Now, I must go. There are matters a king must attend to.”

“I’m sure, Your Majesty,” Laura sank into a deep, gorgeous curtsey that showcased her infamous mocking grace. Beside her, Adama bowed as Richard stormed out of the room. The sound of his receding footsteps was like the sweetest music to her ears. A ringing silence fell in his wake.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Laura admitted after a moment. 

“Me too. I rather enjoyed you putting the king in his place,” Adama said, looking around at the treasures laid about the room. For a moment, he felt the weight of his lower station. He’d never be able to shower Laura in lavish gifts or spoil her as she deserved. That was one reason Carolanne left him.

“Nothing but a failed bribery attempt,” Laura explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. “What’s that?” she asked, looking at the book in his hand.

“Something to pass the time today. It’s the Labyrinth epic; the story of how Theseus and Ariadne escaped the minotaur and his maze,” Bill said. Not a man of many words, Bill spoke with action. Laura’s delighted laugh told him she got the message. In that instant, Bill knew he would do everything in his power to be worthy of her. He feared he would mess it up, no matter how good his intentions. He led her to the chairs by the fireplace and opened the book to page one.

…

Her wedding dress created from yards of white brocade, studded with precious stones. It’s open, loose, sleeves were made from the finest lace while the neckline was embroidered with threads of Tauron silver. Her maids aided Laura in putting her chemise and then corset on before easing the scrumptious dress over her head. As their hands worked on her ensemble, Laura’s head spun at the coming day. Her maids tugged on the laces, fastening her into the gown before adding a stunning belt of diamonds around her waist.

Nodding in approval, Elosha approached holding something wrapped in cloth of gold. Her beloved companion unwrapped the object and revealed a pearl and diamond diadem of extraordinary craftsmanship. Dozens of silver roses formed a circlet with each one encrusted with countless diamonds and pearls. It sparkled in the sunlight like no other piece of jewelry Laura had seen. 

“Your father had it made for your mother,” Elosha explained, placing it on Laura’s head. “He’d have liked the Commander.”

“You think so?”

“You’ll realize it one day.”

Laura stared at her reflection in a looking glass her maids set in front of her. Elosha added tiny diamond pins throughout her hair, but left it mostly streaming down Laura’s back in a red river. Her husband-to-be’s one request for their wedding day was that Laura leave her hair down. To her utter surprise, Laura wanted Bill to be enchanted by her today, so she’d told Elosha to leave her hair loose and free. The woman smiled knowingly. 

In the looking glass, Laura looked the perfect image of a mystical primordial goddess of heaven, swathed in white and silver. The bodice accentuated her breasts while her waist appeared slender and graceful.

Unexpectedly, she felt a need to be a sensual woman today. It was a mind-blowing revelation to her that and she accepted the tangle of conflicted emotions within her. Her blood hummed with the wanted and unwanted thrill of anticipation

“You’re ready,” Elosha said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Who is ready for the wedding?! This is my fun piece that I’m trying not to overthink too much. Just writing some cheesy medieval romance.
> 
> Also, I got photoshop like two days ago, so we got some okayish medieval fanfiddles.


	6. Of Weddings and Wedding Nights

“This is a frakkin’ joke.”

Bill gave his instructions to the priest while Saul muttered and glared daggers at him. The red-robed man hesitated but finally nodded and moved into position before the wedding altar. Bill turned to Saul and dared his oldest friend to challenge him. The bald man gritted his teeth but shook his head in defeat.

“You’ve fallen in love with that damn woman!” Saul seethed in a low voice.

“She’s gonna be my wife,” Bill said, and his low, dangerous tone warned his friend that he’d better respect his wife-to-be.

“You’ve really fallen,” Saul said in disbelief as they took their positions at the end of a long aisle. Lady Laura would make her way down it soon; she would walk in somber procession down the ceremonial blood red carpet, moving through swathes of colorful sunlight streaming in from stained glass windows.

Saul thought back to the first meeting between Lady Laura and his friend Lord Adama. If looks could kill, they’d both have incinerated each other on the spot. Later that day, Bill had grumbled on about how the insufferable woman needed to accept her place and learn to listen to her husband-to-be. Saul had grinned madly at the thought of Bill going toe to toe with the arrogant woman. Now they’d arrived at the appointed day, and his best friend was acting like a smitten fool. _What the frak happened between the pair in two weeks?_

By the Gods, Bill Adama didn’t need another woman breaking his old heart.

The clear ringing of silver trumpets announced the bride’s arrival to everyone. Inside the thick stone walls of the temple, the loud cheering of the crowds outside caused the very ground to tremble. The doors opened and there stood the Lady Laura, last of the Roslin line, who held her head high and walked in alone.­ If there had remained an appropriate man in her family to perform such an honor then they’d be king, and this wedding wouldn’t be happening. 

Bill’s throat went dry as he stared at the woman making her way toward him. She appeared like a divine vision in silver and white. What captivated him most was not the expensive gown, the belt of diamonds, or the crown of silver, pearl, and diamond roses placed atop her head, but the flowing red curls that rippled down her back. His heart fluttered at seeing how she’d indulged his request to leave her hair loose and free.

 _She’s beautiful_ , Bill thought.

The nobles doffed their caps and gave subtle bows and curtsies as Laura passed by. If Richard had thought to humiliate Laura by ordering her married in virginal white and silver, it backfired completely. She was majestic; every inch of her highlighted her royal lineage, and it wasn’t so much the brocaded gown and expensive jewels, as it was her poise and grace. Her reputation might be stained by sleeping with the king, and her value dimmed when she bore no child, but no matter what the king had tried to do to Laura, nothing could take away the quiet authority she radiated.

A choir sang in the balcony, their solemn harmonies dripping down the ancient stone of Caprica’s oldest temple. Beneath them, the ranks of nobility filled every available seat. The ladies sighed softly at the bride’s appearance while the lords shot Bill jealous looks as the woman who could have been queen glided up the aisle to the stoic commander.

She kept her face carefully neutral, her composure masking any displeasure at being forced to marry. Bill wasn’t unaware of the sympathetic looks many shot the woman. His wife-to-be was the prize of the kingdom, and he was well aware that, by anyone’s standards, he was the lesser party. A brief flash of irritation pulsed through him, and he forced himself to remain still. Meanwhile the closer she got, the more Bill noticed the defiance in her eyes and the stubborn lift of her chin.

“You’re in trouble,” Saul huffed, and Bill gave an almost imperceptible nod. He knew. Falling in love with a woman who’d never love him back might have been one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. _As if I had a choice in loving her though,_ Bill thought when he heard his best man Saul scoff beside him in derision. Saul hadn’t come to know Laura like he had. Instead of finding the expected snobbish royal, Bill discovered a beautiful, caring, and intelligent woman who could irritate the hell out of him within seconds of arousing him. His heart thundered loudly under his own white brocaded doublet, with a chain of silver and pearls hanging from his shoulders.

Bill had little to do as he waited except view his bride from top to toe; alabaster skin smooth and glowing; her curves a sultry promise of the carnal pleasures they’d enjoy tonight; her breasts, pushed up by the sparkling bodice, a foretaste of that pleasure. Once the vows were made, Lady Laura would be his, required to lie in his arms and endure however he wanted to touch her. No doubt that was the source of many a sympathetic look she received from the women. _And I once dreamed that I’d have a wife who wants me in her bed,_ Bill thought while Laura took her time to walk up the aisle, as if trying to delay the inevitable.

His heart lurched when Laura reached him; he could see her green eyes glittering with a thousand different emotions. When he offered her a hand, she stared at him unblinking as she forced herself to breathe.

 _He’s been kind to me,_ Laura reassured herself. A heartbeat later, she put her hand in his, allowing him to escort her up the dais. Together they kneeled on the taffeta cushions before the altar and priest.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bill leaned over to whisper quietly.

“Do I have something to fear?” Laura challenged, turning her head to the side.

“Never from me,” Bill said as the choir reached their last lingering note before finishing the hymn. The sound resounded against the walls as the couple locked eyes in a silent battle of wills. When Bill turned away, Laura caught the flash of hurt in the Commander’s features. _Haven’t you noticed my gestures of goodwill?_ the infinitesimal slump of his shoulders seemed to ask. A flicker of shame rose in Laura.

Unable to say anything, Laura simply squeezed his hand, hoping he understood her silent apology. She never handled fear well, and even though she’d discovered Bill was a good and decent man, everything about the marriage terrified her. _Good and decent men can so easily disappear when it no longer suits them,_ she ruminated, _especially once marriage bonds are sealed and all I have and all I am become his. How could I not be afraid?_

She didn’t notice her grip on Bill’s hand tightening as the priest stepped forward and began to recite the marriage prayers of the Goddess Hera. All too soon, they were bid to rise and face one another. It was only then that Laura noticed she hadn’t released her death grip on her husband-to-be. He simply covered her white knuckled hand with his other, encasing her in his warmth. Their fingers intertwined felt right to Laura, more so than she cared to admit as they were told to repeat the Caprican marriage vows.

“I, William Adama, take thee Laura Roslin to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, to love, and to cherish, for now and all eternity.” His voice sounded warm and intense; Laura shivered at the promise in his words. Bill Adama didn’t make vows lightly; those he made he carried out.

Then the priest turned his kind eyes to her.

“I, Laura…” she stopped, trying to catch her breath as her voice failed her. She became dizzy and dazed even though she’d held herself strong and unwavering up to this point. A surge of suppressed fear bubbled up in her. Meanwhile the crowd murmured in the background, and Richard snickered. The king thought this his triumph, as he married off his rival to the throne, and the lover who spurned him, to a gruff soldier. Laura’s eyes flickered around the room until she found herself staring into the blue eyes of her husband-to-be and found no judgement there. He just waited.

 _Weren’t battle lines drawn between us on that first meeting? Why does it seem like he might be the only one on my side in the room?_ Laura asked herself. In her heart hope flickered to life. Laura squared her shoulders; she didn’t let fear rule her life. She repeated after the priest.

“I Laura Roslin, take thee William Adama to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, to love and to cherish.”

The priest’s eyes flickered to the groom before again prompting her to say the final line of the vow. Laura frowned and looked at the priest and then Bill, knowing something was missing. Her almost husband gave a small shrug and a slight smile. It hit Laura like a thunderbolt; he’d told the priest to leave out the wife’s usual vow to obey. She couldn’t stop the grin breaking out on her face. So, he wasn’t the upstart traditionalist he appeared to be, at least, not when there was something more important at stake. With so little, he’d said so much, and she appreciated the gesture more than she could say.

“For now and for all eternity,” Laura vowed, a light sparkling in her eyes.

Bill turned and picked up the simple ring a curly haired young page held out on a blue velvet pillow. With the gentlest of gestures, he glided the ring onto Laura’s finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow,” Bill solemnly swore.

It was done. The priest pronounced them married. The crowd cheered, delighted by any spectacle, and also thrilled with the promise of safety from civil war with the throne’s rival now married off. They practically roared in approval.

Bill ignored them, focusing only on his wife. He surprised Laura by placing his war-roughened fingers under her chin and gently tilting her up toward him. His lips found hers. His kiss was light as air and so filled with tender emotion it brought tears to Laura’s eyes. He was showing her how much she’d come to mean to him while assuring her that there was nothing to fear.

She closed her eyes and relished it. Even after he pulled away her eyes remained closed for a moment as a full smile crept over her face. When she opened her eyes her tears slipped free. Whether relieved or happy, she felt good at the moment. They were too busy smiling at each other to notice the continuing cheers of the people or the discontent on King Adar’s face.

…

After the ceremony, they’d endured the required formal banquet where two dozen courses of food were prepared in celebration. After each one, the court raised their drinks to bless the couple with a long life and a happy marriage. The hall echoed with entertainment from the hired poets and singers; some performers even created an outrageous tableau. The merrymaking remained constant the whole night and by the end of the evening the celebration had devolved into drunken revelry.

And now everything was still.

Laura hugged herself, watching moonlight glitter against the river flowing beyond her window. She was so tired, bone-deep exhausted, but her mind whirled with frenzied thoughts. Many of her musings revolved around the canopied bed draped in silk sheets behind her. A work of art with bedposts carved into dryad forms and lapis worked into the headboard, it set the perfect stage to consummate such an important union.

The knock at the door almost made Laura jump out of her skin, but she knew her duty and bid them enter. She turned as the door creaked open and Bill walked in, wearing a simple burgundy robe that looked plush and soft. Laura herself awaited him in a white shift with a blue robe trimmed in gold lace tied over it. Her eyes smoldered like emerald fire as she looked at him. 

“Good evening, my lady,” he said, shutting the door.

“Good evening, my lord,”

There was silence.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Laura asked, gesturing to a nearby table. Being who she was, she stayed composed even though her insides shook. “It’s wedding-wine. Quite sweet actually,” she said, teasing his sweet tooth.

“Please,” Bill said with a chuckle.

“It’s not only sweetened but spiced too. It’s supposed to…help,” Laura said, filling two goblets with the deep red liquid from a silver pitcher. Before she could offer one to Bill, his hand came to rest on hers to still her movements. His heat burned against the entire length of her back. Nervous anticipation fluttered through her.

Bill stood so close that he smelled the perfume of her hair. The glorious russet tresses flowed around her, brushing against her ivory skin. One curl fell against his arm, and desire to have his wife pulsed in his groin.

“I need you to know that we don’t need to do anything tonight, Laura,” Bill said as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on the hand gripping the goblet. Ignoring his pounding heart, Bill continued. “We don’t ever have to be together if that’s what you want. I will never force you.” Bill traced his hands up to Laura’s shoulders. He nudged her gently, and she turned around to face him while he continued to speak. “I can even go bunk somewhere else tonight; everyone will know our union wasn’t consummated. If you want, it’ll give you a legal way to have the marriage annulled one day.”

The offer pained his heart like a hot knife plunging into his chest. Saul was right; he did love her. And he was an idiot.

“Why?” Laura asked, confusion written all over her face. She saw the heat in his eyes as he looked at her.

“Because I care about you,” he admitted, forcing the admission out despite his natural inclination to leave such things unvoiced. Neither of them moved until Bill smiled sadly and nodded his understanding. He turned and walked toward the door in silent acquiescence.

In shocked disbelief, Laura watched him reach out to grab the gilded doorknob. He would leave if that’s what she wanted. He would stand by her as a husband and ask for nothing in return. Her chest ached at the rush of emotions she experienced.

“Don’t go,” Laura whispered before he could open the door. She shuddered under the wave of complicated emotions washing over her, but she knew one fact; her heart refused to let him walk away. Feeling empowered at being allowed to make the choice, Laura gazed into Bill’s wonderful, kind eyes. “Don’t go.”

Bill approached his new wife again as quietly and carefully as a panther stalking its prey.

“I have nothing to give you, Laura. I’m all I have,” he warned.

“And what if that’s enough?” Laura asked. She realized Elosha had been right; her father would have gladly welcomed William Adama, a simple soldier with Tauron blood, as a son-in-law. Edward wanted someone who would respect and care for his daughter and someone his daughter could respect and care for in return. Laura smiled shyly at her husband. “Maybe…just maybe…we can find happiness in this marriage. Haven’t we earned that?”

“I tried to stop thinking about happiness a long time ago,” Bill murmured as his beautiful new wife rested her hands on his chest.

She smiled, thinking of her recently learned lesson. “Never give up hope, Bill.”

“Same goes for you, Laura.” He reached up slowly and put a hand on her cheek. She let him touch her, keeping hopeful but still wary eyes on his face. He dropped his gaze to her mouth, stroking the pad of his thumb across her lower lip and then leaned in to kiss her.

Laura lost herself to the feeling of being wrapped in strong arms that held her in a tender embrace. She hummed in contentment as warm lips caressed hers, and, when his tongue slid along her lips asking for entrance, Laura gave no resistance. She’d made her choice. She let him in without thought, his tongue caressing hers as his hand mirrored the gesture across her back. She felt more alive than she had in years from taking this chance. Breathless when he finally let her go, she laid her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. It soothed and excited her all at once. Her hand returned to his chest and rested there. Laura had never felt anything so right in her life. His essence surrounded her, his heartbeat steady beneath her hand, and she felt unexplainably safe for the first time in a long, long time.

Bill didn’t take lightly what she tentatively but willingly offered him. Awe and relief flooded him as his new wife allowed him to hold her close. His honor had compelled him to make the offer to leave her untouched; his mother had taught him better than to drag an unwilling woman to bed, wife or not. Before he’d walked in the room, he’d resigned himself to another lonely marriage. But Laura was in his arms and responding to his touch, looking ethereal in the light of the moon shifting in through the window. _My Laura, my brave, strong, vulnerable Laura. You’ll always be safe with me._ He threaded a hand through her hair, holding her possessively close. At that moment, he pledged to protect her for the rest of his life.

A perceptive man by nature, Bill knew that they still had progress to make. His wife still needed him to prove that her trust hadn’t been misplaced. Given time, he’d patiently reassure her that he wasn’t a man from her nightmares who’d steal her fire and freedom. He couldn’t. He loved her as she was. He leaned in and kissed her again. 

A searing warmth streaked through Laura when his teeth gently caught her bottom lip, nipping in a teasing playfulness that caused her to relax a bit more. Feeling brave, she untied her blue robe and led him over to the bed. 

“Wait. I’d like to see all of you,” Bill said, and Laura shuddered at the whiskey undertone to his voice. She stilled and held her breath, hand braced against a bedpost. Her other hand grabbed the shift still hiding most of her body from view, but she didn’t pull it up.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve never really enjoyed this,” Laura admitted. A few more pieces of the puzzle that was Laura Roslin fell into place, and Bill struggled for a moment with his desire to murder the king. He doubted the moron ever had spared much thought for his (former) paramour when taking her; the selfish bastard probably wore away any enjoyment Laura might have once taken in lovemaking.

“If you don’t like something tell me to stop. I want you to enjoy this,” he said. That was putting it mildly. Bill now considered it his personal mission to drive her wild with pleasure she’d never known before. Bending forward, he kissed along the nape of her neck, focusing on the pulse point he found there. He was going to give his spitfire wife a night to remember.

She shivered at how his fingers drifted over her skin before he lifted the shift off her body. Standing naked, she gasped as his hands returned to slide over her curves, his touch burning like fire against her skin. How deeply he affected her frightened a still nervous part of her heart. It didn’t stop the delicious ache in her belly that spread outwards, her nipples growing tight, or the heat pooling in her center. Her head dropped back against his shoulder when he cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs against her nipples in a languid pace. Her legs trembled so hard she could barely stand. _What is he doing to me?_

Bill swept her up in his arms and laid her down on the bed. Arousal pulsed through him at the sight of his nude spouse displayed before him with her long auburn hair falling in a wild array about her alabaster shoulders. His hardened length ached for released when her gaze looked at him in challenge. He knew she was carefully masking the vulnerability she would still be feeling. A sudden tightness gripped his throat as an aching tenderness he had never experienced for any other woman before took hold of him.

“Your turn,” she said, touching the fabric of his robe. At his frown, Laura thought he was about to protest. Bill hesitated for a moment but stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. He knew his body wasn’t what women fantasized about, but if Laura had trusted him so far, he could trust her not to be cruel. Fully naked he climbed into bed next to her, lying alongside his bride. 

Laura reached out and touched his golden chest, feeling his smooth and surprisingly soft skin. Bill tensed but remained unmoving and let her explore at her pace, allowing her to get comfortable. She followed along his broad shoulders that gave way to muscular arms. Her touch trailed down over the paunch of his stomach that she didn’t seem to mind, and over his waist, and grazed against his arse.

He didn’t dare speak or move.

“You’re beautiful,” she said. He lost his breath when she looked back into his eyes; her green eyes had darkened with genuine want. At that moment, he knew he’d never be free of her spell. He’d never want to be.

He stiffened against her touch when her wandering hand brushed across a scar on his chest. Her eyes questioned him curiously.

“First Cylon war,” he explained as she traced the mark. After a moment’s consideration, Laura pressed her lips to it.

She touched the thin white line on his bicep.

“Training injury.”

She found the mark on the back of his hand. Bill sighed. “Some great lord’s son pushed me down, stomped on my hand, and called me a ‘dirty Tauron.’ I’d beaten him in a tourney, so he and his friends accosted me later in an alley.”

“No one will ever say that to you again,” she growled protectively. Bill grinned, having no doubt she’d prove a threatening woman to her enemies. He also couldn’t deny the surge of heat in his body at the display of her fierce nature and at the thought of her being as protective of him as he was of her.

They exchanged long and thorough caresses, taking the time to relish the feel of one another. As she continued to learn his body, she noticed a smaller mark on the soft skin of his neck. His face became drawn and his eyes unfocused, as if he saw something far away.

“First wife.” Laura leaned in to kiss his neck, nuzzling into the soft flesh there. She’d learned a lot about her new husband tonight.

“I don’t want us to hurt each other,” she said, touching the place over his heart. Under her palm, she could feel its strong, steady beating.

“I’d much rather we didn’t.”

“I was prepared to hate you,” she admitted.

“I was prepared to be hated.”

“Do you want me?” she asked. The dam on his control broke and he engulfed her in his arms, letting his passion loose.

They kissed again, and her senses focused entirely on his nearness, his scent, and the way some kind of fire licked over her skin wherever he touched her. And he touched her everywhere.

“Bill?” she asked when a hand moved lower.

“Trust me.” Gods, she did. “I’m your husband, after all. Relax and just feel.” His kiss prevented her further protestations. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck when he nudged her legs apart. Her heart fluttered and her skin blushed as he traced along her folds. She gasped when his fingers circled her swollen nub, sending shots of pleasure through her body. Her arousal continued to grow as he coaxed her body into feeling nothing but desire. When Bill finally dipped one finger into her, he found her dripping. He moved his finger out, then back in, setting up a regular rhythm until her body demanded more. Two fingers, then three entered her, drawing a string of gasps moans from Laura. Letting the palm of his hand grind against her to provide the outer stimulation she needed, he drew her body close to the edge only to back off and leave her hanging in midair, panting.

Even though her body longed to be filled, a flash of lingering fear flittered across her face when he rose above her. He cradled her face in his hands, smiling at her reassuringly. Her doubts were soothed away by the memory of the care and attention already shown to her that night.

“I will be careful,” he promised, gazing intently into her eyes. She nodded.

His hands tightened around her hips as he settled between her legs and penetrated her with exceeding caution. Need tore through him, but he held onto his self-control and eased in inch by inch. Laura mewled and whimpered, her nails digging into his back as she held onto him. He stopped any time her face showed a hint of pain until finally he was buried to the hilt inside her. It felt euphoric. He held himself still, reveling in the deep sense of completion while giving her additional time to get accustomed to him. After another moment, she let go of his shoulders and cupped his face, giving him a deep kiss that sent shockwaves through his body.

“You’re full of surprises, Bill,” she smiled, thrusting against him in encouragement. Laura felt a side of her awakened, a need for passion alongside love and closeness with her husband. It was a mind-blowing revelation to her. She’d believed her families death, the politics of court, and her affair with Richard had killed the woman she used to be. But here was Bill Adama coaxing her back out and showing her what she’d been missing.

“I could say the same about you, wife.” Bill needed little encouragement. He moved inside her with methodical thrusts, pulling himself almost all the way out and then pushing back as far as her silken sheath allowed him to do. Laura wrapped her legs around his waist, earning a growled hum of approval as she used her heels to pull him in farther. Raising her hips to meet his thrusts, Laura felt true joy.

She held him close, as he thrust into her willing body.

Her eyes flew tightly shut as stars exploded in a violent cascade of light against her lids, and she lost herself to an incredible ecstasy. Her soul reached out and encompassed Bill, connecting with him. She cried out at the sheer intensity of her orgasm, and heard her name also shouted into the night. Bill came inside her, holding their bodies together until he was spent. He collapsed beside her and his forehead fell to her shoulder. He panted in rhythm with her own desperate breaths as the waves of pleasure ebbed.

She turned to face him giggling in mirth. “That was incredible!”

He turned on his side and propped his head up on an elbow to face her. He never thought a woman giggling after sex could be so wonderful, but here he was staring tenderly at Laura as she tried suppressing her giggle fit.

“I want you to feel that way every time.”

“Oh my gods,” she said, dropping a arm over her forehead. 

He watched her happily for a moment.

“We could both use sleep,” he said, pressing a kiss her forehead. She sighed and nestled as near into him as she could, head tucked under his chin, soaking in the warmth of his body, and letting his nearness calm her.

As she began to drift to sleep, Laura contemplated what had transpired during that day. She knew letting Bill in gave him power over her. In one night, he had breached all her remaining defenses, devastating her control, and branding her with his essence.

What would happen now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so continues the medieval fic we never knew we really wanted in the BSG fandom. I came *this* close to separating the wedding and wedding night into two separate chapters, but I had a feeling people wanted the wedding night. It took a little extra time because my first draft ended up deleted, and I'm also doing the kinktober daily challenge.
> 
> Comments are lovely and encouraged.They make me giddily happy.


	7. Fortunes

The queen's rooms shone with the light of the kingdom's best candles, and the sweetest flowers perfumed its air. As was the custom, the high-ranking women of the court joined their queen in her lavish rooms before dinner, awaiting the king and his household. They'd process into dinner together, a sparkling display of Caprica's royal family and its allies. No doubt the king needed to show-off power and unity after his warning ridden council meetings throughout the day. Each moment councilors bombarded him with reports of unrest in his lands while others warned him not to ignore the Cylon threat at their borders. Even petitioners from Laura's own lands, whom she'd seen earlier after Bill allowed her to continue meeting them without requiring he be present, painted a grim picture of the kingdom. King Richard would be in a foul mood by dinner time.

The queen herself, a pale and golden-haired whip of a woman, reclined in an ornate chair with the plushest cushions. Her ever temperamental health left her tired and drained again. Once, these moments of weariness from the queen sent the king in search of Laura's company while the court wondered how long the queen could last. Despite the king's lustful appetites, the two women sat side-by-side in the ornate rooms; the highest-ranking women in the kingdom simply couldn't avoid each other. The queen wore envy and rivalry remarkably well and Laura embodied poised dignity treated while the two treated each other politely. Meanwhile, the surrounding ladies entertained their mistress with card games and music. And gossip.

Gossip was essential. Not only was gossip fine court entertainment but learning juicy morsels of information and knowing which bits to keep and which to pass on was a tremendously useful skill for a lady, as dangerous as any ability to wield a blade.

Laura barely heard the women chattering on around her as Lady Sharon shuffled the cards and dealt out a new round. Sweeping the cards up from the table and into her hand, the silk sleeves of Laura's dress shimmered in the candlelight from the movement. Despite wearing a pale shade of violet, Laura appeared radiant among the ladies especially when one caught the secretive smile tugging at her lips or noticed how her dress had its sleeves cut daringly high. She caused a few raised eyebrows.

Laura didn't care. Married off to a loyal soldier with her name now securely hidden in his, she decided to enjoy the newfound security and safety marriage brought. In her heart, there was an audacious and daring woman, and she was starting to come out again. Besides, her husband, her delightfully surprising husband, seemed as enthralled as he was exasperated by her. They'd both braced themselves for a hate-filled marriage after their disastrous first meeting, but they seemed shockingly well-suited.

Looking down at the cards she'd been dealt, Laura nearly laughed. They played using her own personal card deck of prettily painted images; although, Laura had taken twenty-two cards out of the deck and left them in the little satchel as they weren't needed for games but other purposes—purposes her mother taught her long ago. This first card in her hand was the Two of Cups, depicting a young man and woman exchanging said cup in ceremony. She thought back to her mother's teaching.

" _When this is drawn, a strong bond is indicated from the card, Laura," her mother explained as little Laura sorted through the deck, picking out the cards she thought intriguing. "Two becoming intertwined and connected."_

" _Like you and papa?" The older woman nodded. Laura pointed to a flaming figure above the cup. "What does that mean, lady mother?"_

" _Fire and passion. You'll understand when you're older."_

Tracing a finger along the edge of the card, Laura's smile brightened. Her husband was a passionate man underneath the stoic commander, and he proved to be a thoughtful and generous lover. Bill Adama seemed a paradox of strength and gentleness. She remembered their wedding night, when her knight shocked her by offering to leave and she'd surprised herself further by asking him to stay, and the night had then surpassed anything she'd felt before in her life. She'd been frakked before but neither cherished nor loved. Now despite being a married woman who was only expected to lay on her back, she instead became lover and partner. She even felt comfort while laying next to Bill's battle-hardened body at night as they drifted off to sleep while sharing a bed. Neither slipped away after sex for it seemed that unlike most noble couples, they would share a bedchamber. Laura knew he'd be within his rights to demand the best of their rooms to himself as the new master of the household, but they'd been hers for so long and she didn't want to relinquish her haven. Instead, when his household merged with hers, a few confused servants put his things in the master bedroom, and it became theirs which seemed to appease them both.

Laura tilted her head, considering the card. The whole arrangement, the whole damn marriage, left her battered heart thoroughly confused as she pondered her tangle of emotions. Did she dare hope for happiness after all? When could she drag her husband back to bed?

"Laura!" A hand shook her arm, jarring her out of her thoughts. Looking up from her cards, Laura found expectant faces studying her from around the table. More than one hid a smirk behind their cards. _Hyenas sniffing a potential juicy piece of gossip_ , Laura thought. She noticed several cards in the discard pile and wondered how much of the game she'd missed.

The queen heaved a most impatient sigh. "It's your turn, Lady Laura."

"Sorry, your majesty," Laura offered. She drew a card and promptly discarded it, unable to summon even a vague interest in the game. She accepted that as the second-highest ranking woman in the kingdom, she needed to attend the queen and endure her gaggle of ladies. They were admittedly useful when wanting to know what was going on at court. Laura really hoped they'd stop staring at her soon.

"You're very distracted today," Lady Sharon Agathon probed, as she snatched up the discarded card.

A saccharine laugh filled the air. "New brides are always distracted," Lady Ellen, who had never been married herself but seemed an expert on the marriage bed, teased. Her vibrant blonde curls, a feature several male courtiers were rumored to find simply irresistible, tumbled over her shoulders as she laughed at her joke. She plucked a card off the deck, casting a conspiratorial glance at the table. "Especially if the rumors are true… a maid said she could hear many sounds coming from your window late at night," Ellen said, laying down her discard with a deliberate thwack as she eyed Laura to gauge the rumor's accuracy.

"And what was a maid doing outside my window late at night?" Laura asked as her traitorous skin reddened.

"What maids do, of course!" Lady Ellen threw her head back and laughed.

"Really, Lady Ellen," the queen's chief lady-in-waiting admonished, preferring a serene sense of decorum to be maintained. They were refined ladies after all.

"How do you find marriage?" Lady Gina asked curiously, the newest lady at court who was swathed in red velvet and would catch many courtiers' eyes at dinner.

"I simply couldn't imagine being married to a soldier," Lady Grey said and Ellen nodded.

"Well, at least there was nothing to surprise her," the queen muttered.

"I am not answering these questions," Laura said, sending a scathing look to the women around the table.

"Quite right," the chief lady-in-waiting said, continuing the game with her turn.

Turning back to her cards, Laura doubted she could express in words how she found her marriage anyway. They'd been forced together true, but it was clear to both of them that they had the potential to have something special. But that needed trust, and both of them guarded their hearts. Both of them were also tired of being alone, and _they_ felt _good._

Her stomach knotted. It all came back to fear; _good_ didn't necessarily _last, good_ didn't protect against _hurt._

"Laura!" Lady Grey snapped. Laura heard Ellen's bubbling laughter as she looked up and felt the heat of several impatient sets of eyes. "It's your turn again."

The queen tossed her cards on the table, declaring she couldn't play like this. She went on about how her marriage never distracted her like this, and her ladies remained polite enough to not offer their opinion. The queen commanded her chair brought to the window and for Gina to come read to her. The others lepts to obey, arranging themselves around their queen.

Such behavior ruled the court. As a little girl, Laura had trailed behind her aunt, the former queen, while holding her mother's hand. _Back when things were good,_ Laura thought as she gathered up the abandoned cards. _They can be good again_ , her heart whispered. Straightening the cards together, Laura recalled the golden days and the things her mother taught her; how to be a lady, how to be a Roslin, and how to be a daughter of her line.

Mixing all the cards back together, Laura added in the previously hidden twenty-two cards. She shuffled them several times.

" _We're descended from Pythia herself, Laura. The greatest of oracles. From her union with Apollo comes our line. The prophetic gifts she possessed, which the Pythiai after her strive to attain, come naturally to us," her mother explained.  
_Laura drew three cards; the past, the present, and the future. A shiver went down her spine as she laid them down on the table. She hadn't done this in years. Long ago, Caprica had outlawed witchcraft, and not many practised even remotely related arts outside of a temple's protection anymore. Although such arts were accepted during the Rosin's reign where soothsayers of Apollo, wise-women of Athena, oracles, scholars, augers, and alchemists were welcome, those days were gone. Richard never forgave or forgot how his court never attracted such people and their blessings. Laura hadn't risked the king's ire and jealousy by practicing something he didn't understand and that reminded him of the mystical aura his court failed to achieve. Killing her as a witch would have solved a problem or two.

Lining up the cards, Laura took a deep breath. She flipped the first one over quickly and found herself looking down at three swords piercing a ruby-red heart with great billowing storm clouds taking up most of the background. The Three of Swords, with its weapons wounding a heart, was easy to interpret with its obvious depiction of pain and hurt. No one denied grief and heartache haunted her past, and Laura quickly flipped the card back over because dwelling on heartbreak did her no favors.

She rolled her eyes when the next card showed a knight. Precisely, the Knight of Cups, whose motives were pure and will was strong. He moved slowly forward toward peace and calm. Laura hummed thoughtfully; she wouldn't have originally thought the compassionate and romantic Knight of Cups a match to the man she'd first met.

Her pale hand rested on the final card— the future. For so long, Laura avoided thinking of the future. With one determined flick of her wrist, she turned the card. She gasped, the surprised sound escaping her lips involuntarily.

The Empress.

Entwined in magic and nature, the beautiful woman sat on a throne of gold while shining stars formed a crown on her head. Great green trees grew in the background while wheat sprang up at her feet. Laura's gaze was drawn to how the artist had painstakingly painted the pomegranate patterned robes of the ruler so that the folds fell gracefully around her pregnant belly. To Laura's irritation, tears burned behind her eyes as she looked down at her former dreams on the table; the Knight of Cups and the Empress. In another horrible moment, the king's herald was announcing the king's arrival, and Laura snatched up the cards. She tucked them away in the little bag tied to the silver belt at her waist.

The king stormed into the queen's rooms like an angry thundercloud made human. The ladies dropped into nervous curtseys as the king greeted his wife as proper protocol dictated. With a resigned sigh, the king asked after his wife's well-being when he noticed her tired expression.

Laura turned her back on the scene, striding to the window to keep out of the king's sight. She dreaded what would happen if the king noticed her and let his eyes linger too long on her body. Resting her hands on the window ledge, her new wedding ring shone in the flickering candlelight. Truthfully, it made her stomach roll to think of Richard's looking at her in lust or summoning her. The days she'd have allowed the attention and shared his bed to then offer advice on how to fix the latest ailments in the kingdom were over. He no longer listened to her, and she'd decided to be faithful to Bill. He deserved no less. After all, his own obvious honor was the reason she knew he was no spy for the king.

What would she do if the king summoned her again?

A hand touched the small of her back and she gave a surprised jump. Her body tensed and immediately the warmth on her back retreated.

"Are you alright, my lady?" a rich, deep voice asked. Bill stepped into the space beside her, looking at her with those intense blue eyes of his.

"It's been a long day," Laura said. Besides attending the queen, meeting her petitioners earlier drained her. She looked over at Bill with a small smile. "You startled me," she explained.

"Ah," Bill said, relieved his touch in particular hadn't prompted her reaction. After a moment's hesitation, he slid an arm around her waist and grinned internally when he heard her quiet hum of approval as she leaned against him without even realizing it.

 _So, this is simple, honest affection_ , they both thought. It felt _good._

…

Marrying Laura undeniably rose Bill in courtly status. With Laura on his arm, he now walked into dinner directly behind the king. He felt out of place in the procession as he followed after their peacock-like king and walked beside his own poised, beautiful wife. He moved as if marching in formation; with his head-up and looking neither to left nor right, the habit of a leader to whom his people could look. In reality and to many people's shock, his quiet and dignified persona made him look like he belonged, especially when paired against his polished wife.

Bill grumbled under his breath about the ridiculousness of the pomp and ceremony, which only prompted his wife to hide her face behind a delicate white hand as she giggled instead of scolding him.

 _I like seeing her laugh like that,_ Bill thought as she composed herself again but with laughter still dancing in her eyes. _Did I so recently want to bend her to my will?_ He doubted she'd have even laughed like this with him if he'd forced her submission, and his world was brighter when she laughed.

"How did your meetings go?" he asked her as they walked toward the feasting hall.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

Laura regarded him from the corner of her eye as they walked as if marveling at someone so straight-forward.

"Tiring," Laura admitted, "but good. I think I did some good, but a lot of them are struggling…" she said before trailing off.

"Struggling?" He asked looking over at her, but she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and glanced at the king. He understood without Laura needing to speak, a skill between them that became quickly apparent. Sometimes they just didn't need words. _Let's not talk about this around the king,_ she said silently. He redirected. "Any good news?"

Laura smiled. "There was a rather charming boy straight from university. Billy Keikeya. He wanted to know if he might find work in my household, a rather bold question for someone who couldn't stop fidgeting from being so nervous."

"So what will he be doing for you?" Bill teased lightly, already knowing Laura would have found it irresistible to encourage someone so young.

"Joining my other advisors," Laura grinned. "You don't mind?"

Bill shook his head. "You know what you're doing."

"I try," she said. "But, maybe we could look at some of the security arrangements throughout... _our,"_ Laura swallowed, only a little bitterness remaining now," our lands. There's been some trouble with bandits."

Bill puffed with pride at her nervous request; she'd turned to him for help. Granted, it was his area of expertise. _You're being ridiculous, old man,_ he chided himself.

"Of course."

His heart did a strange flutter when her fingers tightened around his hand. He considered himself lucky that he'd chosen to soften in approach to her before irreparable damage had been done. Instead, they had an easiness to their interactions now, their progress a miracle after their first tumultuous meeting. They could have easily hated each other.

He really needed to stop seeing every station as a battle. He still thought her proud and haughty, but he supposed she needed that to survive this court and protect her caring heart. He'd needed to be a bastion of stone and strength to survive war and command.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in return as they strode into the banqueting hall and up the dais to their seats at the table. Tonight they sat at their usual spot to the king's right. One of the most seen rooms, splendid tapestries and gilded candlesticks decorated the hall. Royal guards in full livery spaced themselves evenly along the hall. Apparelled in fine silks and brocades, satins and damask, which all glittered with jewels, the people of the court assembled to enjoy their nightly revelry. However, there was an even greater sense of grandeur to the air and Bill wondered if he'd missed whatever latest triviality the king wanted to celebrate.

The rich smell of thick garlic sauce over steak filled the air, wafting up from the kitchens like foretaste of the promised meat course. Loaves of fluffy bread covered in butter and surrounded by crushed nuts filled the platters already on the table. They'd of course begin the feast with soup, probably a creamy mushroom soup flavored with thyme and parsley. Bill certainly ate better than ever before in his life, and he had to admit to some enjoyment at being served portions of the best food from the castle's kitchen. _It at least makes these dinners endurable_ , Bill thought taking a deep breath as those seated at the high table took their places where they faced out toward the great banqueting hall like a great tableau. Everyone gazed up at the king in the center, who wore his greatest crown and stood to address his people.

He spoke eloquent words about the kingdom's prosperity and strength. Pontificating on the greatness of his reign, his words dripped with self-praise. He extolled the virtues of his court along with the 'great and noble continuation of our reign,' and Bill marveled that nobody had passed out from the amount of hot air the moron was spewing. Bill knew actual war heroes who'd never dream of going on like this. However, the king's speech produced a wild roar of approval, everyone's faces brightening. _Seriously,_ Bill thought, refusing to clap.

"We are strong among the Twelve Kingdoms. But we can't forget our allies who have sworn friendship with us, whose trade brings us extra prosperity, and whose allyship strengthens our position. To that end, we welcome the Sovereign of Sagittaron, King Thomas Zarek and his party, who have come at my invitation, to squash rumors of disharmony and reaffirm our everlasting partnership."

Silver trumpets blared as the doors to the banqueting hall were thrown open to allow the aforementioned ruler to stride into the hall. Everyone in the hall stopped to study the infamous Saggitaron who moved at a deliberate pace with an impenetrable shield of calm. Surrounded by his entourage, Zarek stood out with his sharp eyes that hinted at his unquestionable intellect. 'The Philosopher-King' they called him, like something from an old legend. He called himself a king of the people, but his raiment was as rich as Adar's.

Laura didn't quite hide her surprised gasp, letting Bill know this was as much a surprise to her as to him. It was impressive since she usually seemed to know everything that happened at court sometimes even before it happened. Out of the corner of his eye, Bill noted that she didn't quite hide her displeasure at seeing him; after all, the rumors stated that he had wanted to kidnap and marry her himself.

The two monarchs greeted each other amicably before Zarek took his place at the queen's side. She'd be duty-bound to charm him throughout dinner, helping reinforce the alliance that seemed tenuous not so long ago. Bill knew great feasts were arenas for politics, often witnessing Laura do her own work by talking with and entertaining the different visiting dignitaries and ambassadors seated around them. She didn't seem inclined to give Zarek the time of day, allowing him only short answers when he spoke over to her.

Zarek turned on his not-insubstantial charm throughout dinner, bewitching those around him. The queen laughed dainty at his conversation, and Adar enjoyed the waterfall of compliments. However, when his charisma left Laura unaffected throughout each course, Zarek was quick to ask her to the first dance of the night.

"If I asked you for the first dance, would you accept?"

Bill amazed himself by not sending the man through a wall when Laura graciously accepted. Her manners wouldn't let her refuse such a public request from the guest of honor.

They lead other pairs onto the dance floor. It was an easy dance; other couples doing their steps and then Zarek and Laura doing theirs. He stumbled over a move and laughed easily at himself.

"I think, my lady, we might have gotten off on the wrong foot," he said.

Laura smiled, giving him an acquiescent nod, but said nothing. She had little to say for someone who'd used her in any plot.

"You can hardly blame me, you are lovely, my lady," he continued. Laura didn't know how to reply, and she certainly didn't like how he was looking at her. She glanced over to the high table, but her husband had disappeared.

"We could have been unstoppable together," Zarek whispered when the dance brought them closer together. Laura decided there was something wholly repellent about being this close to the man even if the prescribed dance steps brought it about. A complicated series of flourishes and partner transitions finished out the dance. Laura endured the whirl of color, hearing a commotion as she turned back around and found herself in Bill's arms.

"Sorry," he offered to Zarek who was now partnered with a different pretty lady. "I'm not so used to court dances still. I thought we kept these partners."

"No. We change one more time," Zarek said but accepted the new lady he was partnered with instead of causing more of a mishap on the dance floor. Laura gave a relieved smile at Bill who led her through the remaining dance, noting how unperturbed he seemed at causing a kerfuffle on the dance floor. He shrugged to her.

"I am still getting used to this circus," he offered blandly as the dance ended and they bowed and curtsied. Laura gave him a look over his obvious lie. Bill didn't care and offered her his hand again, allowing her the option to stay with him for the next dance and away from the courtiers eyeing her. She took his hand but led him away from the floor.

"So, if I told you it's early enough for us to sneak out, you'd believe me?"

"I'd follow you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: So, so sorry about the long update. There was an unexpected death in the family, then an unexpected death in the community, and then I got sick. What an awful month! This might have been a weird chapter as a result, and it did end up being cut down so I could post sooner (because ya'll know if they are sneaking away there is a steamy scene coming up).
> 
> So continues the silly medieval a/u of the dystopian sci-if show. It is only meant to bring us some smiles at its sheer ridiculousness during COVID continues. No outline. No plan. No beta. Just gratuitous medieval fun.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has dropped a king review. They are are always loved.


	8. Trust

_Previously: "We could have been unstoppable together," Zarek whispered when the dance brought them closer together. Laura decided there was something wholly repellent about being this close to the man even if the prescribed dance steps brought it about. A complicated series of flourishes and partner transitions finished out the dance. Laura endured the whirl of color, hearing a commotion as she turned back around and found herself in Bill's arms._

_"Sorry," he offered to Zarek who was now partnered with a different pretty lady. "I'm not so used to court dances still. I thought we kept these partners."_

_"No. We change one more time," Zarek said but accepted the new lady he was partnered with instead of causing more of a mishap on the dance floor. Laura gave a relieved smile at Bill who led her through the remaining dance, noting how unperturbed he seemed at causing a kerfuffle on the dance floor._

_…_

Leaving the feasting hall, Lord and Lady Adama swept through Carillon Castle, retreating from the reveling court. Bill mocked their pettiness and internally fumed at how they’d been blindsided by King Zarek's arrival at court. Adar played a ridiculous game by allowing the Sagittaron monarch to cross the borders of Caprica.

 _As if we don’t have enough to worry about with the Cylon Empire,_ Bill thought. He glanced at his wife who kept stride with him, walking with an air of remarkable confidence. Turning a corner together, the silk of Laura’s skirts flowed through the air, rippling like a purple river, reminding him of her poise and grace on the dance floor. She’d worn a smile while dancing with Caprica’s smarmy guest, but Bill now knew Laura well enough to see through it. She’d wanted to be away from Zarek, so he’d helped. 

_Too bad it was with the grace of a Tauron bull,_ Bill reflected, knowing he’d caused a wave of judgmental whispers. He shrugged them off, not caring about the opinion of sycophants. With an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach, Bill grudgingly admitted that he cared about _her_ opinion now. 

The rustling of fine fabric and their footfalls were the only sounds in the dark halls; everyone was either at the feast or in the kitchens working. In the absence of conversation, Bill imagined the fuss his first wife would have made over his ‘clumsiness’ despite its effective use in a well-intentioned maneuver. Carolanne had obsessed over appearances and status, never having enough of either for her liking. She’d blamed him for that, something Bill remained acutely aware of as he walked beside an even prouder woman.

Swallowing back the bitterness that thoughts of his first wife provoked, Bill kept his stride although his heart pounded harder with every step they took. He wanted to know what Laura was thinking.

Her hardened expression betrayed her frustration, but Bill couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or Zarek. His heart clenched as his secret fear taunted him; that Laura would come to hate him as Carolanne once had. He did note that her small hand stayed nestled in his as they made their retreat, a reassuring presence that felt _right_. Even so, his skin also burned from Laura’s intense gaze as it assessed, or possibly judged, her spouse. 

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

“Of course, my lord,” Laura said demurely; the default and polite response of a lady. _A clear lie,_ Bill realized with a stab of irritation, being a man who preferred straight talk. 

“Even though King Zarek was upsetting you?” He glanced over, ready to remind her of his well-honed observation skills, but found himself looking into her eyes. _She has stunning eyes,_ that unbidden observation slipped into his mind with an unexpected jolt that he felt all the way to his toes.

“I was fine,” Laura said. 

“Really?”

“It was just a dance.”

He’d seen less calculated positioning and interacting from some of Caprica's army captains. _Just a dance?_ She’d faced the man rumored to have been planning to kidnap her; King Adar clearly enjoyed toying with her.

“I thought we were trying to be honest with each other,” he groused.

“I _am_ ,” she replied, an annoyed cadence creeping into her tone. 

In the hallway Bill stopped, causing their still entwined hands to swing Laura around in a swirl of purple silk and tendrils of red hair. She ended up facing him, studying him with her bewitching and wary green eyes. _She’s still so guarded,_ Bill realized.

“I was concerned.”

“Something I think everyone noticed,” she said. Bill forced his voice to remain calm, stoicism his armor. 

“I don’t care what they noticed," he said in a low voice. “Or what they think.”

“Of course not,” Laura retorted. She saw hurt and confusion shining in his eyes before he closed that window into his soul. Laura cringed, having not meant for their exchange to become hurtful or heated. She rested a comforting hand on his chest, right above his heart. 

“Laura-”

“What I mean,” Laura clarified, softening her tone, “is that I’ve seen how whenever you have even a scrap of affection for someone, you’ll go above and beyond to take care of them, protect them. It wouldn’t matter what anyone thought, or whatever got in your way.”

“It’s who I am.”

"Yes," she said. They both felt the almost-fight brewing between them dissipating like mist in the wind.

“Does that bother you?” Bill asked, looking at her intently.

Laura’s hand gripped the velvet fabric of his doublet, her heart clenching at this make-or break moment she sensed between them.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t. You’re a good man Bill. One of the best I’ve known.” 

His stomach flipped at her words. What a balm to his bruised heart it was to hear that. He touched her almost reverently, his fingers running along her cheek. She was right; he took care of those he cared about, and he cared quite a bit about her. 

He closed the distance between them, touching his lips to hers in a physical sign of the affection he felt rising up in him, shoving all other thoughts to the side. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, his mouth moving over her soft lips, caressing and teasing. A relieved thrill raced through him at the little hum he felt more than heard as Laura responded to him. Desire stirred in them, its heat warming their bodies. Before they got swept away while still in the public hallway, they pulled apart.

“I do care for you, Laura,” he said in a desire roughened voice, but still stating this as if it were an immutable fact. 

She tilted her head to study him, inadvertently pressing her head into his hand.

“I want you to know that I didn’t deceive you when I said I was fine,” Laura said, breathless from their kiss. Still, it felt important that she clarify this point. “This is court life and... I’ve dealt with worse than Zarek.”

“I need to remember that,” Bill admitted, allowing the concession so he could also make his point. “I want a meaningful marriage with you, but without some things that becomes almost impossible. Things like trust and honesty. I know you still keep things from me. I want to believe that one day soon, you’ll be open with me and trust me.”

"Is that all you want?” she asked, already struggling with the enormity of what he asked.

"I want you.”

“Oh?” she said, sounding startled. Most men would assume they already had her with her conjugal duties bringing her to his bed. But Bill wasn’t like most men. No, he asked for far more, and Laura felt terrified and thrilled. She really hadn’t counted on the effect he would have on her; every fiber of her being lighting up in desire when he touched her, burning irritation when they argued, and deep contentment when they were together. 

She wanted him too. But could she open herself to another person, be that vulnerable?

“C’mon,” Bill said, when the tittering of gossip bounced off nearby walls. Touching the small of her back, he guided them onwards. Much better to be in the private refuge of their rooms for the rest of this conversation. They fell into silence again, leaving Laura’s mind swirling with thoughts.

... _Years Ago…_

Milling crowds filled the outer courtyard and the great hall of Carillon Castle. Like a spider in the middle of a web, King Adar could be found in the state apartments at the center of the impressive complex. The guards posted at every set of doors kept all but the most important away from these inner rooms and the king. The monarch would rather not interact with the riff-raff. 

Being richly dressed in the finest fabrics with the most fashionable cut helped earn a lady entry, and who wouldn’t want access to this sumptuous separate world? Along with her enviable gowns, Laura’s iconic red hair always allowed her admittance without a second of hesitation from the guards. 

Courtiers always gossiped behind the Lady Laura Roslin wherever she went. After all, she would always be the woman who could have been queen. Laura, head held high, ignored it. She slipped through the court with natural grace, stopping to converse here and there. Those around her delighted in her light flirting and friendly remarks while she subtly advocated for her causes. She focused especially on finding more benefactors for the universities she patronized, many of them welcoming children of any rank. 

Charm and wit were her weapons. She had both in abundance, and it earned her a constant crowd. 

“His majesty the king,” a herald announced.

Everyone dropped into bows and curtseys, offering courtly deference to their monarch. The people kept their eyes on the floor, although some of them flicked a quick gaze at the king. They saw anger tugging at his features, forcing his face into a scowl. 

Murmurs filled the room like a brewing storm cloud. Laura’s ears prickled, always listening for useful information. 

“...because the queen is still not with child,” a gentleman nearby whispered to his friend who nodded his agreement over that being the cause of their ruler’s mood. 

The king stopped in front of Laura and hummed thoughtfully. She could feel his eyes on her, burning holes into her dress. He’d once laughingly said that he preferred her wearing no clothes at all. She glanced up and watched Richard’s scowl transform into a charming smile just for her. 

“Rise my lady.” 

“Your majesty,” Laura greeted, rising on unsteady legs and noticing the undisguised want in her lover’s eyes. She smiled softly. Meanwhile, the whole court watched, enrapt with their exchange. Of course they noted the long kiss the enamored ruler pressed to his almost rival’s cheek. He let it be known she was his favorite at court. 

“You look ravishing,” Adar rasped in her ear. Laura shuddered. It brought back memories of their hours of love-making when he groaned similar sweet nothings as he took her. 

“Your majesty is too kind,” Laura said. 

“Not kind enough for you, sweetheart. You know that I am your most loyal servant.”

Laura laughed and rolled her eyes at his honeyed words. For her, he was always charming and sweet, loving words and kind gestures. It worked for her; after all, the previous king had imprisoned her. 

“Are you well?” he asked. 

“I am, thank you.”

Something shifted in his eyes, and he took a step closer. Laura raised an eyebrow at the strange, calculating look he was giving her. 

“So, no sign you are with child?” 

Laura’s face fell. Unable to speak, she shook her head as her cheeks blushed red. 

“Come to my bed tonight,” Adar ordered, and Laura felt herself bristle at the command. Since when did he impose his will on her rather than seduce her? Without waiting for a response, being the king and all, Adar stepped back. Giving her a curt nod, he strode away. Laura was left standing among the gossiping courtiers who stared at her.

Laura pushed against the little voice in her head telling her she’d failed. She looked after the man whom she’d thought she might be coming to love. Frowning, she felt...hurt. She might have been born a woman, but she did not like being seen as a delicate creature most fit for warming a bed and bearing a child. She might enjoy being a lover and want to be a mother, but that wasn’t everything she wanted. 

She had more power than that in this world.

…

Entering their chambers, none of the servants were there to disturb the Adamas. All of them had gone to their own supper because their master and mistress weren’t expected back until much later.

Having been long aware of the odds against him in the battle for Laura’s trust and affection, Bill remained patient but hoped they’d made progress that night. Maybe the day would come when they’d fully share their lives with its sorrows and joys. But when she looked at him, still wary with equal parts confusion and astonishment, he pulled his beloved spouse into his arms and trusted his instinct to reassure her.

“I meant it, Laura. I only want you,” he murmured into her hair before kissing her forehead. 

“Are you sure?” Laura asked, unable to forget her own deep-running fear of being hurt again. 

“Yes,” he said, even as she tested his patience. _Stubborn woman._ He tipped her head up so that his mouth captured hers once again in a kiss of pure tenderness. He showed her that he was sure. 

Overwhelmed, Laura stepped away and turned. 

“Can you help me with my dress?”

“Sure,” Bill said in a low rumble. Laura felt his fingers run over the silken fabric of her dress, traveling from her waist to grasp her shoulders. She’d miscalculated in thinking she could safely ponder the night’s events from behind the familiar role of lover, but never had her body responded to someone’s touch like she did Bill’s. He so easily kindled the ache between her legs.

She stilled, holding her breath when the feathery drift of his hands trailed over her shoulders and met the bare skin of her neck. Gasping when he placed a soft kiss against the nape of her neck, she felt him carefully loosening the laces.

She’d miscalculated everything. Bill already had the power to break her heart. She was falling for him despite all her defenses, and she found herself desperately hoping that Bill really wanted _just_ her. 

Her head tilted back to kiss him, yearning for that connection. He met her happily, groaning in pleasure when she tangled a hand in his soft, cropped hair. 

Laura’s mind still couldn’t resist whispering worst case scenarios to her, despite the increasing tension in their bedchamber. It was an inevitable side effect of her life. Although her wealth and titles seemed no great idol to him, a dark part of her asked if he just wanted her body or another heir. The image of the prophetic fertile Empress card she’d drawn during her fortune reading stayed in her mind, taunting her by reminding her of what she wasn’t. 

Her dress fell, pooling around her feet. Bill kept up his gentle kisses while moving on to the next layer. She sighed when the boning of the corset released her next. A guttural sound came from his throat as his fingers brushed against the thin cotton fabric that was now the only thing covering her. 

“I can’t have children,” she blurted out her great lie of omission. If he wanted openness and honesty, this was it. 

He tensed, muscles tightening in response to her words. Slowly, he turned her in his arms, forcing her to face him again. Her expression challenged the truth of his words. _Do you really want just me?_

“Oh, Laura. What am I going to do with you?” he sighed. She was so dual natured; fierce and challenging, and soft and vulnerable. Like him.

“Whatever you want. You’re my husband and lord,” she said bitterly, mistaking his reaction for displeasure. His hands fell away from her and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I wish you’d stop trying to push me away.”

“You wanted honesty.”

“ _And_ trust.”

“‘A meaningful marriage,’” Laura repeated. _What a dream._

He summoned all his patience and understanding. “There’s something you need to understand, Laura. I don’t bullshit. I have no use for lies. I mean what I say. I said I wanted you.”

“Why me?” she asked, needing to push him.

It took Bill a minute to answer, putting emotion into words was a clunky, inelegant thing for him. But he spoke sincerely.

“You came into my life and filled it. It’s been good. It’s felt right.” _Because I love you._ Those three words remained unsaid.

A sense of peace settled over her, the warmth coming from an admission she knew wasn’t easy for him but soothed her scarred soul.

“This isn’t easy for me,” she admitted. “Everyone I’ve ever cared for is either gone or has hurt me.” 

“Not this time,” he pronounced and then swept her off her feet, carrying her the short distance to their bed. She didn’t have time to react before Bill was there, braced on his elbows over her. His expression turned thoughtful.

“You know I’ve already got a son. Estranged but alive. I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t like to also have a child with you, for your happiness even more than for mine. That isn’t why I want to be with you though,” he said. “You’re an incredible woman, Laura.”

Although tempted to conceal the tears that blurred her vision, she let them spill down her cheeks unhindered. She reached for him, tracing along the contours of his face, over the deep scars and soft skin, marveling at the powerful and strong yet kind and sweet man. He did really want just her. He’d accepted her greatest weakness and stepped out of his own comfort zone to offer her loving words.

“I’m yours,” Laura said softly.

“Say it again.”

So, it seemed she wasn’t the only one who harbored secret doubts about the other’s feelings. Giggling from how light she suddenly felt, she obliged.

“I’m yours,” she said. She grinned and her hands tugged at his doublet. “And _y_ ou’re overdressed, darling.”

Bill gave her a roguish grin. “Not for what I have in mind.”

“Bill?” 

“Trust me.”

“I do.”

Triumph surged through him followed by a wave of infinite tenderness for the beautiful woman lying under him. He’d earned something precious tonight. Now he’d seal his victory by bringing her such pleasure that she’d scream his name as he showed her that their union was as much about her as it was about him. His words for the night were spent after the effort it took to tell someone how he felt. Showing was easier. He’d make her feel safe and loved. 

He shifted to move down the bed. Hands, warm and roughened with callouses from bowstring and sword, traced over her curves with great care. As if entranced, Laura stared at her husband with undisguised curiosity. She shivered when he reached her legs, feeling the softness of his hair against her as he started kissing down one leg and up the other. He moved in no hurry, and Laura suspected that he was allowing her time to feel comfortable.

A heated blush rose in her cheeks, as he lifted the shift she still wore. She didn’t stop him as he eased it off her, baring her whole body to his sight. It felt strange and erotic to be naked in front of her fully clothed husband. She laid in their bed with all her softness and vulnerability exposed along with her nakedness. She’d laid her defenses down and now had to trust that Bill wouldn’t destroy her.

Something lovely and reverent filled his gaze as he took in the sight of her. Laura bit her lip to keep quiet and let him gently spread her legs farther apart. Draping one leg over his shoulder, Bill dipped his head down to her center. She cried out startled when he parted her folds and blew on her core. 

“Bill?”

“Shhh, Laura. I want this to be about just you.”

There was that idea again, but any further thoughts Laura might have had were shattered when his mouth touched her. He started with light, teasing licks that had Laura clutching the sheets in her fists. Pleasure coiled in her, growing more intense with each firmer stroke. When her hips pushed against his face, he gave a satisfied chuckle. Laura’s baffled mind couldn’t believe that he was enjoying this, but when she buried her hands in his hair he moaned and rewarded her with a languid swirling of his tongue around her nub. Her heart raced, her ears buzzed, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

Bill enjoyed her responsiveness, systematically logging what made her react before pushing her up higher. He was a master strategist and tactician. He teased her with a finger, sliding into her effortlessly from how wet she’d become.

“Bill!” 

“Yea?” He chuckled at the sounds that came from her mouth. He whole body trembled, her hips working against his mouth and fingers. He liked her like this, uninhibited and free while enjoying their togetherness. “Gonna have to do it more often. If you’re willing.”

“Oh gods,” she managed, as he pleasured her. And pure pleasure this was, being most certainly not for procreation or even his own release. 

He added a second finger, and Laura thought she might fly apart. Her impending release felt like it was coming from every part of her body, welling up inside her like a great wave. Bill plunged a third finger inside her, and Laura’s ecstatic cry were all the encouragement he needed to keep pumping in and out of her willing body while sucking at her nub. His other hand now held her down as she writhed, the intensity of the sensations almost too much for her.

An overwhelming flood of pure bliss slammed through her, forcing a keening cry from her throat. Bill drew out the feeling before slowly brings her down from her high. It took her awhile to come back to her quivering, overloaded body. Boneless, she laid back surprised yet languid and happy. She looked down to find Bill’s head resting on her belly, stroking the clenched fingers of the hand still in his hair.

“Oh,” Laura said, letting go. She noticed how smug he looked, and she let out an almost giddy laugh. A unique diamond he was, but he still had that male pride.

“What?” Bill asked, drawing back to look at her, bemused.

“Nothing, I’m just —” _happy? her brain supplied. Relieved? In love? Having fun again?_ “Happy,” she allowed.

“Good,” he grinned.

“Are you?”

He looked momentarily disconcerted. He hadn’t expected the question. 

“I am.”

Secretly, she wondered at how this night turned from them almost fighting, to how comfortable they seemed now together. She felt the stirring of an ache deep within her.

He stood up, stretching his limbs.

“You’re standing up to take your clothes off, right?” she asked. 

“We don’t need to-”

“-Bill, I’d really like to make love to you now.” 

His responding groan was enough to make her hot all over again. Without sparing another moment’s thought, he shucked his clothes. Her heart skipped at how happy he looked when she opened up her arms to him, inviting him to return. He climbed into the bed and into her arms. Laura pressed herself against him, delighting at how good it felt to have all his skin touching hers. When he settled himself above her, she couldn’t resist running her hands up his arm and humming in approval at the tight bulk of muscle under her palms. She slid her arms over his shoulders, one pressing to the smooth skin of his back and the other threading through his hair once more.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice dropping to its roughest. The blunt head of his cock nudged at her entrance, but he waited for her assurance.

“Yes.” She grinned and gripped him with her knees as he pushed in slowly, and oh it felt wonderful. The stretch and pressure were welcome as he filled her. Bill felt huge inside her and her body still thrummed with her previous release, so it was almost too much. Laura didn’t want it to stop.

Their eyes remained fixed on each other, watching the other’s reaction as his body pushed in deeper until they were fully connected.

"That’s good," he murmured hoarsely.

"Mmm, it is good," she said, giving him a cheeky grin and bucking against him. He chuckled in response, thoroughly pleased with them both. He found a good pace, feeling a rush up his spine when she rolled her hips against him in a return thrust.

He groaned and dropped his head into her neck. The muscles of his back tensed under her hands as he moved faster and harder. He slipped a hand between them to rub at her clit, determined to bring her to climax with him. His firm, tight circled caused her to moan and clutch at him, and her second orgasm quickly followed. In response, he stiffened and let out a long, drawn out moan. His hips stuttered a few times as he came deep inside his wife.

It took time for them to recover. They may as well have been struck by lightning. With a grunt, Bill gently rolled them over and wrapped an arm around her spent form as she cuddled against him.

“Is this really it, Bill?” Laura asked as she caught her breath and thought back on the whole night. “Is this how we’re gonna spend all the rest of our days?”

“Hmmm,” he said, looking at the positively glowing redhead now resting on his shoulder. His mind still felt fuzzy from their lovemaking.

“Maybe we should just enjoy this.”

“I am,” he said, watching her hand make lazy patterns against his bare chest.

“No, I mean…maybe we got a break. We should embrace it and live the life we’ve got while we’ve got it. The life we want. See what it brings us.” Bill watched her talk, letting her have her moment of revelation. He toyed with the strands of red hair now falling out of its updo. He tried to remember that he was a tired man with issues. Instead, he nuzzled his face into her sweet-smelling hair and felt content in a way he hadn’t in ages.

“Yes. Together,” he agreed.

...

Jail sucked. Saul Tigh had seen the inside of enough buildings designed for imprisonment to feel absolute confidence in knowing their unpleasantness was universal. This particular institution of incarceration located in Caprica City would have been alright all things considered, if not for the occupant in the cell next to him. 

As a further insult, she wouldn’t stop laughing. 

Kara Thrace, knight of Galactica and chief hell-raiser in all of Caprica, had charmed a guard and her cell mates with irritating ease. She’d then produced a deck of cards from somewhere on her person and had them playing triad. Jail didn’t bother Kara; she could have her fun wherever she found herself. The damn kid turned finding herself on the wrong side of the law into an art. It grated on Saul Tigh’s nerves who thought the hot-headed knight needed several lessons in humility and deference. One of these days, Kara wouldn’t be able to charm or fight her way out of the mess in which she found herself. 

Also, Saul was usually the one throwing Kara behind iron bars. 

Ignoring the spectacle that was Kara Thrace, Saul Tigh looked through the open doorway and waited for his best friend to come. With no high-risk prisoners to worry about, the door that separated the cells from the entryway remained open. A small building beside Carillon Castle, this jail usually only held jailbirds associated with the nobility. It saw no worse than silly lordlings who drank too much and then groped too much. Or idiot knights fighting in public. 

This time, he and Kara were the idiot knights who’d made a scene. Luckily, his best friend’s infamous leap in status, and the displayed Adama coat of arms he and Kara wore as members of his house, ensured that they were treated well until their leader came to the rescue. It was certainly the nicest incarceration Saul or Kara had endured after being arrested for drunk, stupid, and disorderly behavior.

He still didn’t like Bill’s new wife. He still hated jail.

Saul groaned and paced. The splitting headache he nursed was definitely souring his already iffy mood. Saul heaved a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Bill entering the building. If he were held in this jail much longer, the charges would increase to homicide of a one Kara Thrace. Would that be so bad? Saul frowned; he’d end up going to the not nice jail with far less accommodating guards. _Might be worth it_ , Saul considered when a boisterous yelp let him know that Kara had won another round of triad.

The Commander exchanged quick words with the jailer, who stood straight with shoulders back. He seemed eager to assist, probably hoping that one day a lord or merchant might hire an eager to please man like him. Saul scoffed. Sure Bill had a soft spot for the young and eager to prove, Saul admitted, shooting a look over at Kara, but Bill spared little thought for ass-kissing over talent. 

“These yours, m’lord?” The jailmaster asked, having led Bill back to the cells. The guard gestured to him and Kara. The young knight jumped to her feet and leaned casually against the bars. 

“Yeah. They’re mine.” Bill’s eyes flicked between the two of them, narrowing in disapproval. _Fair,_ Saul admitted. Ultimately, their behavior reflected on him. Saul’s stomach twisted, hating such moments when he let down his best friend. It happened too often, but Bill stuck by him and kept his sorry rear afloat. 

“Hey boss!” Kara said with unashamed cheek. 

Saul gave him a curt nod. 

“They were involved in a fight, m’lord,” the guard explained. 

“Anyone hurt?” 

“Just some bruises.”

Bill nodded, probably thanking the gods despite not believing in them. “Can you release them to me?”

“Well...There was also some property damage.”

So a few tables got flipped, Saul vaguely recalled as he folded his arms. He also distinctly remembered that it was Kara who’d done it. Right? Saul tried to remember, thinking there might have also been a broken window at some point. Either way, Bill gave them both the Adama glare, and fished out some coins from the bag tied at his belt. _New wife has some perks_ , Saul grudgingly acknowledged. Money would never be an issue for Bill (or him) again. 

He still didn’t like the new wife.

Bill handed the coins to the guard. 

“I need them out today. We’re set to leave with the rest of court.”

 _Shit,_ Saul cringed as he remembered what they were supposed to be doing this morning. The King was going on progress and leaving the Capitol but had decided to take his favorite plaything and members of her household along too.

“Riots getting’ bad in the capitol. Isn’t safe here,” the guard said, pocketing the coins. The man opened the cell and allowed Saul and Kara to leave. Clanging the door closed, the guard continued talking, eager for gossip. “Heard the king was leavin’, but it’s good to know that you and the Lady Adama will be safe as well.”

“Right,” Bill said, offering no additional conversation. Instead, the Commander gestured for Saul and Kara to get moving. Both were smart enough to quickly obey, opting to not test anymore of Bill’s patience. 

“Troubling times these are,” the guard said, as they left. “But you tell your wife that Caprica city gives you and her our best.” 

…

Bill, Saul, and Kara stepped into the courtyard of Carillon Castle where the whole court was preparing to depart. Lords and ladies mounted on their horses oversaw the last bit of preparation. Pages carried great traveling chests to their carts. Jewel boxes were held by the most trusted among them to be carried by hand. It was a mass of organized chaos. Saul, Bill, and Kara push through, and Saul felt a stab of guilt for making his best friend have to bust him out of jail at such a time. His pretty little wife couldn’t have been happy at Bill needing to step away that morning.

The purpose of this trip was for the King and Queen to be away from Caprica City due to word of plague. The claimed to want to see the good people of Delphi and told everyone that it was a fine idea to show the visiting King Zarek such a splendid city.

That was all a lie.

Bill had seen how the guards around the castle had been doubled. There were even tasters for the food that the royals ate. Adar no longer trusted the people of Caprica City on whom he’d raised taxes while neglecting their safety. It all irked Bill more than a little; a thought shared by Saul who shook his head in disapproval. Of course the King was running away.

“You’re lucky I need my best knights with me,” Bill said as servants rushed past. Kara and Saul had the decency to look ashamed.

Bill finally strode over to where Laura waited on her grey horse, garbed in a fine green travelling cloak that was trimmed with silver fur. Her hair was styled under a jeweled cap with a feathered plume, which made her easy to spot. Too important to be given a task, she surveyed the great entourage forming in Carillon’s courtyards.

Beside her waited Bill’s mighty warhorse Viper, who could strike a man with his hind legs as fast as the snake for which he was named.

“Getting’ along, sir?” Kara asked as she eyed the lady.

“That’s none of your business,” Bill said.

“Apparently so,” Saul muttered, noticing the resplendent smile Laura gave Bill when she noticed him walking toward her through the crowds. She nodded at his two companions as Bill hoisted himself into Viper’s saddle with ease.

A royal procession was designed to be a grandiose affair, reminding the people of the power a king held. There were hundreds of soldiers, most in either armor or livery. Grooms of the household rode with the loaded wagons, each one bearing the seal of its corresponding household. From the courtyards of Carillon Castle, through the streets of Caprica City, and into the surrounding countryside, the beating of drums let the entire area around them know the sovereign passed through.

Ahead of their main group marched an armed guard, a vanguard under the command of Commander Nagala. Next comes the Praetorian Guard lead by Commander Cain all of them sworn to defend the King at any cost. After this personal guard, the king and members of his household followed in safety and security.

Laura’s smaller entourage came next. Bill rode by her side, teasing her about the surprising horsewoman she turned out to be. Her mare matched the spirited nature of her mistress, who wanted to dash ahead and gallop through the grass. As the journey continued the Adamas ended up arguing on whether or not private armies should be allowed. Directly behind them, rolling their eyes, rode Kara and Saul and then Dee and Elosha. The trusted ones were kept closest.

When guards started riding up along the column, speaking rapidly with the various men-at-arms, Bill’s conversation ended. His keen eyes observed the increasing commotion. Robbers and highwaymen had become far too common on Caprica’s roads now, but the king’s progress had strength in numbers.

“My Lord,” A younger soldier said, approaching Bill. He passed a note to the older man who quickly broke the king’s seal and read the scrawled words.

“Word of a possible ambush,” he muttered. “The king won’t turn back.”

“Bill?” Laura asked, watching him with wide eyes. He met her gaze for a moment seeing the concern in them. He silently communicated the urgency of the message he’d received, unhappy to be the one causing the flicker of fear in her eyes.

“Kara,” Bill said, looking back at his best knight. He nodded toward his wife. _Protect her_. Kara saluted and touched her sword. His best fighter would do her duty.

He turned to Laura.

“As commander of the army, I’m taking command of the soldiers here. King’s wishes. I have the most experience. Kara will stay with you.”

“Oh my gods,” Laura breathed and tried not to linger on the fact that he was unarmored. He carried his trusted sword at least.

“I have to go,” he said. He pulled Viper closer to her mare, until he was able to reach over and kiss her passionately. Laura felt his reluctance to leave and knew he hated being ordered from her side.

“Stay safe,” she pleaded when they broke apart. He nodded.

Urging his warhorse to break out of formation, Bill galloped to the front of the column where the bulk of the soldiers marched. Saul followed in his wake, their horses kicking up a cloud of dust.

It didn’t take long for their fears to be confirmed when cries of ambush rose along the column. Soldiers broke off from the road and engaged in the enemy melting through the trunks of the surrounding trees.

“Ride, my lady,” Kara yelled as she took place on Laura’s right. “Ride forward and don’t look back until we get to Delphi.”

“Bill…”

“Can do his job because he knows I’ll keep you safe, now GO!” Kara yelled and the woman urged their horses into a full gallop, following the other members of court fleeing onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I stepped away, needed a break, but we return with another chapter of the strange medieval fic! I hope that was as sappy, campy, tropey, and silly as I meant it to be.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me. Drop me a comment and let me know what you thought!


	9. The Rightful Ruler

Laura hated riding away, knowing that her husband joined the fight behind her. Hair wild about her face with her heart pounding in her chest, she had such a strong image of Bill facing the enemy out-numbered and out-armored. If only he’d been told to prepare, he could have been better equipped. Armor. More soldiers. Surely the King should have heard rumors about the ambush! Laura cursed the king, the thickly forested country that so easily hid the enemy, and her damn soldier-husband who had to fight.

Kara urged them onward, never giving anyone the option to slow. She muttered angrily about the stupidity of leaving the capitol, not sending scouts ahead to check for ambushes, and several other things that irked her. The others only caught snippets above the horses’ hoofbeats beating against the ground. They only tempered their pace when they trotted into Delphi, entering the city gates with its posted sentries on high alert. They direct those who’d ridden with the king to continue toward the Delphi keep.

No people cheered or laughed in the city streets; drums and trumpets did not greet Lady Laura or the other great nobles of Caprica as they arrived. Shutters were closed on all the houses, and no one was outside selling their wares; only soldiers and those reaching shelter roamed the streets. Delphi pulsed with the eerie feeling of a city prepared for the worst. 

Laura’s group rode through the winding streets, part of a long line of those who escaped the ambush while others stayed and fought. Elosha, riding a pace behind her mistress, pointed out friends and allies who’d reached the great city Delphi as well, many of whom dipped their head in respect at Laura when they saw her alive. Unresponsive, Laura’s dazed eyes remained fixed on the white turrets of Delphi’s fortified castle that dominated the center of the city while her thoughts swirled around the man she’d left behind. 

They reached Delphi castle, the strongest, most fortified place for miles around, and Kara finally relaxed her alert posture. Their horses finally stopped in the courtyard, where the walls were built several feet deep with each white stone cut even and square. Servants rushed about, taking horses to the stables and nobles inside. Guards remained alert, maintaining the peace and safety of Delphi. Several troops remained on standby, ready to ride out to their comrades' aid if the word was given. 

Laura kicked her feet out of the stirrups and swung down from her horse, not noticing who took the reins. With a look of thunder on her face, she marched into the famous stronghold of Delphi. 

“Where is the king?” she demanded from a guard. 

“His rooms, my lady.” 

She moved through Delphi Castle, a terrifying and wonderful sight to behold. Tangled red curls flowed down her back, her face flushed with anger, and fire flared in her eyes. Nothing remained in Laura’s path as she made her way to the king; everyone stepped to the side with a nervous look. Even the guards posted at the door of the king’s rooms stood aside, not brave enough to keep her out when they saw her and heard the danger in her tone as she ordered them out of the way. 

Opening the door with trembling hands, Laura entered the room, her eyes searching for the king. Richard sat in a gilded chair next to a roaring fire with armrests decorated with lion heads. He held a goblet of wine to his lips, and a plate of fresh cheeses and fruits waited on the table. Servants tittered around him, carrying away his traveling garments and bringing him his sundry comforts. Laura’s fists clenched.  _ Does he not care that his procession was attacked? _ She wanted to yank him out of the chair and toss him into the courtyard where he could do some good by marshaling the Delphi forces to help those still on the road.  _ Couldn’t he be doing something?  _

Walking straight up to his table, Laura slapped both hands on the table, the wood stinging her palms. The loud bang of mahogany against flesh froze everyone in their tracks. Candles in tall silver Libran candelabra tittered with the force of the blow, their flames sputtering and wavering but still casting a yellow glow on the room. 

“Out,” Laura ordered. Everyone scurried away, terrified at being caught between the unusual wrath of Lady Laura and the displeasure of King Richard. With a heavy thud, the thick door closed behind their retreating backs and left the two powerful figures alone. The king vaguely acknowledged her presence, only furrowing his brow and offering her the table’s bounty before continuing to pick at it himself. 

“Did you know anything about the ambush?” Laura demanded. Her words cut through the air as harsh as a winter’s wind. 

“Have something to eat, Laura. We had quite a ride,” Richard said in a kindly tone pushing a bowl of ripe, juicy berries toward her. Laura tasted bile in the back of her throat; it was beyond her comprehension that anyone could be so oblivious.  _ How had he ruled for so long? By the gods, how had he ruled for so long!?  _ Her stomach clenched in a tight knot. _ Bill could be lying in a ditch somewhere!  _

“Why aren’t you riding out with the Delphi forces to help?”

Richard waved his hand in a casual dismissal of her idea. “Commander Cain and Commander Nagala are more than able to muster the Delphi forces themselves. Until then, I’m sure your husband has everything under control squashing these rebels. He was, after all, chosen as a match for you partially as a reward for his accomplishments as a commander. I’m afraid you chose to endure times like this when you accepted the marriage.”  _ Instead of being my mistress,  _ he thought while swirling the wine around in his goblet with languid motions. Some dark part of himself took venomous satisfaction that Laura, who’d rejected being his official court mistress, now paid for her choice. Seeing her distress now, he complimented himself on a job well done.

Laura took a bold step around the table toward the king, quivering with anger. How dare Richard attempt to divert her attention by mentioning the less than happy arrangements around her marriage.  _ It turned into something happy, something I can’t lose.  _ Laura knew she would  _ never  _ regret choosing to marry Bill over becoming this king’s mistress. 

“Did you know anything about the ambush?” Laura asked again. 

“There’s always dangers on the road, sweetheart.”

She breathed heavily while the great fire heated her skin and the smoke assaulting her nose. Applewood. A luxury. 

“You did know, or at least suspected the danger,” Her fingernails dug into her palms, feeling the urge to claw at something, anything as she worried for Bill.

“The knight and his lady,” he said, ignoring her realization. “Turns out I created a fairytale for people. I’m sure your  _ hero  _ will come riding through the gates to you, like in any good Caprican epic.”

“And if he doesn’t, Richard, I promise you-” 

“You promise me what?” He asked, all the amusement in his tone vanishing without a trace at Laura’s opaque threats. He took a generous gulp of wine, forcing calm while being intimidated by the likes of Lady Laura. He’d always known she was dangerous. He just hadn’t realized that she might remain a threat after her years of calm, after the ups and downs of their affair, and after strategically marrying her off.

In a moment of absolute clarity, Laura regretted not taking the crown and ruling Caprica herself. Only occasionally in the past had she bemoaned the weakness that had stopped her. She’d been so tired and so consumed with pain after her family’s death and her imprisonment that she’d thought herself not strong enough to rule her people.  _ What if I would be no better a ruler than the bad king,  _ she’d once thought. 

She should have snatched the crown right off Adar’s head. She might not have been the perfect queen, but she’d have done her best by her people. But she’d traveled this path, and it led her to a man in whose arms she’d found respect, trust, and safety. Love. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. 

“If my husband doesn’t come back, I promise that you will regret it,” Laura said in a deceptively soft voice. It was a dangerous tone- the sound of a woman coming into her own and now ready to take on the world. 

Richard’s heart fluttered with anxious excitement while every fiber of his being cried out in need for her. His fiery ex-mistress looked so lovely in her tousled, angry state. She appeared so desirable; red hair dancing in the flames, eyes burning with intensity, her figure towered over him like a wrathful goddess Athena incarnate. He would have taken Laura right there if not for her fierce preoccupation with Adama that might ruin the experience. 

His moment of weakness passed, and a cold unease settled in his bones as he realized the danger in her words. 

“Did you just threaten your king?” Richard asked.

“Would I ever threaten the rightful ruler of Caprica, Richard?”

“Good girl.”

Narrowing her eyes, Laura smiled coolly, her self-assurance and inner power shining through like a fiery beacon in the night. He was no longer her friend. The man across from her had consumed too much power, something she had allowed him to take because she’d not grabbed it for herself. She straight up, looking down at him before dropping into a curtsy while speaking.

"I bid you goodnight. May the Gods watch over the rightful ruler of Caprica and give them the strength to overcome their enemies whose days will be few. Let them know shame and leave no legacy behind.“ Standing from her curtsy, Laura felt a thrill race through her.  _ Did I just say that?!  _ Adar’s wide eyes showed that he understood the potential curse threaded through her words. She’d frightened him.  _ The rightful ruler. _ Oh, she’d made Richard’s blood run cold.

Laura turned and left, pushing her fury towards Richard to the side so she could think clearly. Outside the door, Kara leaned against a wall to wait for Laura. She looked like a young knight armed with nonchalance, but Laura noted her underlying unease; she worried for her comrades left behind. 

“Come on,” Laura said. 

“What are we doing?” 

“Mustering the Delphi garrison.”

Kara grinned. Action. She could do action. Besides, with the Commander’s wife now safely behind the impenetrable walls of Delphi, she could throw herself back out into the fray. 

They found Cain, Nagala, and the Delphi Captain not mustering the Delphi garrison but arguing over gods only know what. They certainly stopped their petty bickering when the infuriated Lady Laura laid into them and demanded they get their act together. Even Cain swallowed any answer other than ‘yes m’lady’ when Laura ordered them to put an end to their disagreement and send out reinforcements. They didn’t even argue when she told them Kara would lead the garrison out so that all three of them could remain safe in Delphi. Within the hour, the Delphi forces mustered in the courtyard and received their weapons. They left with a determined roar. Meanwhile, Cain saw to the praetorian guard around the King. Nagala went to work on sending ravens out to check the status of other strongholds throughout the kingdom. The Delphi Captain watched over the guards left behind to keep peace in the city. If bandits freely attacked the king on the road, where was safe? 

Laura moved from one problem to another. She needed to keep busy. She couldn’t stop and let her mind dwell on Bill. She needed to stop picturing him dead and abandoned on the side of a road, covered in mud with the smell of death all around his body. Laura gritted her teeth and pressed on, helping the Lord and Lady of Delphi castle manage the disarrayed arrival of those in the king’s procession. She herself insisted on first arranging for a place where the injured could be tended. Then they all made sure the Delphi castle remained ready to house and care for their new arrivals. 

With things more organized, Elosha took over for her mistress, and Laura climbed to the battlements at the top of the walls that ran around Delphi Castle. The high vantage point offered a magnificent visage of the surrounding area. She tried to make out every small figure in the streets or approaching Delphi, but they were too small to recognize. 

Laura felt a pain in her head as the events of the day caught up to her, and she leaned against one of the crenellations. Whenever she closed her eyes, the image of Bill came to her; they’d come so far together for him to be ambushed by villains. She wondered if her heart would know if her beloved husband had died. 

_ Beloved. _ Her heart admitted it.

She watched the horizon even as it eventually grew darker. The sun was sinking and turning the sky into a crimson-tinted haze. 

She hated waiting.

Cold seeped into her body. The wind brushed her cheeks and neck, and she shivered.

“Laura!” A voice shouted with a desperate edge in it. Laura’s head snapped around, swiveling this way and that in search of who’d spoken. She knew that voice. Through her tangled and knotted emotions, a new feeling rose and inundated her whole being- the most profound sense of relief she’d ever felt. 

“Where is my wife!” the familiar, wondrously rough voice demanded from someone nearby. Barely feeling her feet touch the ground, she moved toward the sound. Stepping around a corner of the battlements, she saw the fierce expression of her husband whose whole body remained taut with worry. 

“Bill!” Their eyes connected, and he took great strides, reaching her in a heartbeat. 

“Dammit, Laura, no one knew where you were,” he said angrily. For a moment, Laura’s relief at seeing her husband alive gave way to the familiar indignation that colored many of their interactions.  _ Why is he so irritated? _

“Well, I’ve been here,” she snapped. “Worrying about whether you were dead or not.” 

“I started fearing you’d been kidnapped in the chaos,” he said, making her jump when he raised his voice, him having never done so to her before. For a moment, their gazes of steel clashed. Laura contemplated him with ire, and he remained wound-up and vexed. He had the intimidating presence of a man filled with adrenaline and the blood-rush of battle. Due to her position, she’d only seen those returning from the madness of battle from a distance. Up close, it was raw and fierce - her husband was disheveled, dirty,  _ and breathing.  _

One heartbeat later and they were both stepping toward each other. He gathered her into his arms, holding her close while kissing the top of her head.

“Thank the gods you’re alive,” Laura said to Bill’s surprise. He’d expected distance between his gruff greeting and messy state. Grateful for her affection, he pulled her to himself and buried his face into her hair; the weary warrior returned home and given a moment with his love.

“We’re both safe,” he said softly. He now realized he might have made a bit of a fool of himself when trying to locate his wife like a madman. Little could crack his strong facade until it came to the wellbeing of his family.

“Are you hurt at all?” she asked, and he shook his head. Laura pulled back to start looking him over anyway. He endured it, suspecting that she wouldn't be satisfied until she examined him for herself and saw that he’d come through this latest tribulation unscathed. Besides, this open affection and concern he now witnessed in her fascinated him. It wasn’t expected after the harshness he displayed at his return, but in the fading rush of adrenaline and blood-rush of battle, he’d panicked when he couldn’t find his wife. She must have realized he’d only been as concerned for her as she was for him. 

He took her hand, caressing her palm with his thumb. “Laura, I’m fine. Now let’s get inside. It’s cold.”

Laura sent a servant running ahead to make sure someone prepared their rooms, and when they stepped into the finely furnished space the warmth of a roaring fire greeted them pleasantly. Fine tapestries hung from the walls, woven with nature motifs and images of the first Pythia- Laura’s ancestress and a prominent Delphian legend. 

Laura pulled Bill past these images of a woman touched by the gods with the gift of foresight and brought him through a set of doors to a smaller room. The private room was covered in smooth stone and set in the center was a marble bathing pool, with mosaics of lapis lazuli and gold around the edge. Steam rose from the water already in it, easily filled from the copper pipe that carried water from Delphi’s hot springs. The luxurious setup was only afforded to few people.

Still fascinated by this warm, caring woman that he’d almost missed by initially only focusing on her proud and cold side, Bill let her undress him without complaint. After she peeled each item away, her gaze swept over each inch of bared skin in search of injury. Reminding himself that she saw past the flaws a mirror revealed, he let her work. Sore and tired, it felt nice to trust his body to her care. Her fingers traced over the forming bruises, but she didn’t find anywhere a blade had touched him. Her demeanor conveyed such tenderness that he wondered just how far her feelings had changed from the initial (and mutual) disdain.

“Get in,” Laura ordered, divesting him of the last of his garments. 

“Bossy woman,” he said, chuckling at the firm tone. He stepped in-she seemed determined to tend to him, rank and formality be damned at the moment. He settled in the water, and the heat soothed the aches. _ Oh, frak, this feels like heaven, _ he thought with a contented groan. He glanced over and caught Laura watching him intently. 

“What happened out there?” she asked, moving to pick up some of the nearby cloth and soaps. She soaped his body, massaging the strong muscles of his arms and neck. Bill closed his eyes and relaxed at the wondrous sensation of lithe fingers manipulating strained muscles into releasing their tension.

“Hired band of mercenaries. Decent armor and weapons,” he answered. “They’d rallied to meet our defense when the reinforcements from Delphi arrived. I didn’t expect Kara to be leading them,” he said and looked at her questioningly. 

She responded with an enigmatic smile. “We know how to get what we want.”

“Of course.”

“Were the mercenaries Capricans?” she asked. 

“Some. We don’t know who hired them. A few prisoners might talk. They were definitely after the king.”

He frowned when he felt Laura’s hand on his neck tense; he’d thought there was no longer any love lost between the two. He certainly didn’t want to be competing with  _ that _ man for Laura’s heart.

“I might have done something I’ll regret,” Laura admitted quietly. 

Bill frowned at the ambiguity of the statement. “What?” 

Laura didn’t answer. There was no good way to relay how the harsh words she’d spoken to the king or the fate-filled words she’d thrown at Richard before leaving his presence. Instead, she focused on her task, rather pleased that Bill enjoyed her ministrations. It felt good to care for someone-especially someone to whom she’d deeply bonded.

“Did the king know about the attack?” she asked after a long silence spent reflecting on her interaction with the king. 

“With his vast network of spies? He probably knew something would happen, but…”

“But?”

“Laura,” Bill sighed, too tired for anything but straight-talk. “ 

“Go on.”

“He’s a moron. He doesn’t know anything about preparation or warfare. He’s all show. He probably thought the stupidly impractical but flashy armor of his praetorian guard would intimidate anyone daring to attack. I don’t know how the hell that man won his crown.”

_ I do; one unpopular king people deserted, a lot of gold to pay for an army, and a woman who didn’t challenge him,  _ Laura thought. “Nonetheless, he did, and…”

“And?” Bill asked when his wife fell silent. He tried to crane his neck to see where she’d moved behind him. Strong hands kept him in place. “Laura?”

“You’re injured.” He winced in pain when she touched a spot on the back of his head. In the water, he noticed a few swirls of red join the suds. Laura carefully tended the unnoticed head injury. She examined it this way and that, finding it not very big and so cleaning the area. Wincing at the sting, Bill noticed the shift in the atmosphere. 

“There, that’s better. Clean now. Better. That’s…” She was muttering inarticulately. He heard a shaky breath behind him. Without another word, Laura stood and strode out the door, the abruptness of her action surprising Bill. 

He joined in their bed-chamber after quickly drying off and pulling on linen clothes. She stood in front of the fire, staring at her hands as if searching for any traces of his blood on them. Concern etched onto his face when he saw a tear escape the corner of her eye. He was at a loss what was happening with her. 

“It was just a small nick,” he said.

“I know.” She kept staring at her fingers.  _ What is going on with me? I’ve dabbled in prophecy again, practically threatened the king, and fallen in love with a soldier.  _ She was acting with the Roslin passion and fire she thought extinguished in her years ago. She tettered on the brink of a transformation as she rediscovered the woman she used to be and combined her with the resilience she’d forged. But seeing Bill’s injury, feeling his blood on her hands as she tended to him, was a cold dose of reality that reminded her of just how precarious their lives remained. Mortality. Though washed away, she couldn’t shake the image of his blood on her hands. Emotions churned in her; grief, fear, rage, relief, and others she couldn’t even name. 

“You still could have died,” she whispered. 

“I had to do my job.” There was a hint of a defensive edge in his voice. 

“I know,  _ I know,”  _ she said, not setting out to make him feel bad. She tried to explain. “It's not easy being the one left behind, waiting to see who else makes it.” 

Knowing her history, understanding filled him. He covered her hands with his own. “Everyone made it. Elosha. Dee. The king…”

“ _ You! _ ” she erupted, the sudden raw emotion in her voice stunned him into silence.  _ Hardheaded man! Hasn’t he figured it out?! _ Her eyes searched his, pleading for him to understand. “I was worried about  _ you _ .”

“Me?”

“ _ Yes,”  _ Laura said, honesty pouring out of her when she saw the surprised look on his face.  _ He’s his own worst critic. _ “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever truly cared about. But if you...” Her throat closed, refusing to voice the horrible thought of his death.

“I’m right here, Laura,” he assured. Like any dam too full of water, her restraint broke, and a sob escaped. Perhaps some part of her realized it was safe to feel, and the tears fell freely. Her husband immediately responded to her grief with compassion, embracing her and holding on for dear life as she expressed years of pent-up grief and lingering fear. She gripped him back with a desperate strength as if to hold him safe forever in the shelter of her arms. Her face was tucked against his neck, saturating her senses with his scent, while her tears spilled onto him. 

“I’m sorry for this,” Laura murmured. 

“You’ve held some of this in for a long time,” he said, and a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. _I really have,_ she thought. Her next breath sounded painfully close to a whimper, but when she tried to repress the sound, her anguish escaped anyway in a choked, heartbreaking sob. So she stopped suppressing the pain and let it out. It hurt. Her turmoil caused her a physical pain that left her aching all over. Even so, it was cathartic, and after enough time, she felt relief. Her tears for a past that she couldn’t change, along with a few relieved ones for Bill’s survival, ebbed. 

“I can’t lose you too,” she said in a hoarse voice. 

Bill pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, surprised at the sudden ferocity of his love for her. He made her a promise.  “I’ll never willingly leave you, Laura.”

“If you did, I’d come after you.” She raised her eyes to meet his. 

“I believe it.” Tenderly, he cupped her cheek with his hand. She leaned into his touch, making a soft sound of comfort. “Feel better?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Feeling their mutual exhaustion, they followed through with Bill’s suggestion they get into their night robes. Collapsing down in one of the chairs by the fire, he tugged Laura down onto his lap, propriety and formality thoroughly abandoned. Elosha slipped in, bringing them a simple meal of bread, cheese, and some candied fruits, smiling happily at the content couple quietly talking before disappearing. 

Nibbling at the food, Laura nestled against her husband while he extended his bare feet to the crackling fire. His arms wrapped around her, and she caressed the toned forearms pressed against her with light circles. They fit together well. 

“After I lost my family, I longed for that feeling of home but didn’t think I’d ever find it again. And then...this. I don’t think I’ve ever felt truly at home until these last few months with you.” 

What words were fit to describe the feeling her words brought him. He realized she was bringing him a sense of peace in his life he never knew he needed. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

He pressed a self-indulgent kiss to her temple. Surprised at the sudden ferocity of his love for her, even if it remained unsaid.

“I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Inspiration seems to be a fickle friend for me lately. Sigh. Yet here we are! Another chapter of the medieval a/u!It was meant to be WAY angstier, but I just felt pretty fluffy by the end. 
> 
> Who else is still cheering on the pair of them? Let me know what you think! 

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: Alright, it’s a purely fun piece. No beta. No outline. No overthinking. Yes ridiculousness. Yes gratuitous. Yes eventual smut.
> 
> Thoughts?


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